


Son of the Empire

by MrsHamill



Category: Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Original Character(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-15
Updated: 2016-02-15
Packaged: 2018-05-20 19:53:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 111,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6022711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrsHamill/pseuds/MrsHamill
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Sith and the Jedi have been at odds for millennia. In the face of a mutual threat, can they set aside their differences and work together?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> This was one of the longest single stories I'd ever attempted; not only the longest but the most complex as well. In a piece like this, a writer _must_ have help, must have editors who can see past the story and into how it all hangs together, if it all hangs together, and I've been blessed by some wonderful friends who have helped beyond measure and who deserve more than my paltry thanks. Claude, of course, who went through it painstakingly, paragraph by paragraph, in an attempt to make my writing readable. Lisa, who gave me invaluable advice about pacing and characterization, who might yell at my mays, and I will get those brownies to you, promise! Jax and Laura read it as it was being written and were the source of much thwaping and sharp prodding when I would have given up in disgust. Lee Writestuff, one of the finest writers I know, was another who gave wonderful advice and well-timed smacks, and though she wanted it another way, she understood when I didn't quite follow her suggestions. Christi and Lori batted clean-up, a thankless job but one that was achingly necessary, and Lori's comments made it immeasurably stronger. For many reasons, this story is dedicated to Rita, in thanks that again aren't sufficient. She is the reason why this thing has virtually no resemblance to the outline, and why it is probably much better than the story I would have originally written. Thank you, my friends, you make me feel loved.
> 
> The pictures scattered herein are those of Kelly McGillis in her title role as "The Duchess of Malfi" at the Washington Shakespeare Company's production in 2001. She is indeed who the Empress was based on.

**CHAPTER ONE**

Qui-Gon Jinn was bored. 

Being a Jedi Master did have some benefits and among them was the ability to mask outright boredom with a semblance of interest. The two sides had been back and forth for several hours on the negotiations, tedious negotiations in which the Jedi representatives would speak to their translator who related their comments to the Empire's translator who then repeated everything to the Empress and her court. Qui-Gon's mastery of her language wasn't complete but it was sufficient to render the interminable translating back and forth excruciating.

It didn't help that the Empress herself rarely spoke. She left speaking up to her advisors, delegates and other minions, all of whom hovered around her and the table like flies to a corpse, darting in and out to make demands and ensure concessions. The Jedi would then reply with their own demands -- gently stated but demands nonetheless. Considering it was Qui-Gon's immediate future they were discussing, on one level he felt he really should take a larger interest in the proceedings. He did not, though, knowing the Force would provide. This posting had already been foreseen. There was little he could do about it, other than accept his fate. It wouldn't be so much a hardship; after all, he rarely felt at home even in the Temple on Selonia.

There was a child accompanying the Empress, one of her 'spare heirs': possibly the youngest one, though he had not been introduced, and all the Jedi knew were the names, not the genders. He was a sunny child, with his mother's sky-blue eyes. His hair was bright blond instead of light brown and touched with silver, as hers was. At any rate, the little one looked to be about ten or so, and it quite amazed Qui-Gon that he had managed to stay still and attentive during the talks; he thought only Jedi children were capable of such stillness, and only then after long practice. As they continued, however, Qui-Gon could see his edginess and sense his fight against fidgeting; he felt for the child, trapped in such dismal work on such a lovely day. 

When the boy sighed soundlessly -- Qui-Gon noticed the rise and fall of the ribcage -- and looked around the room again, Qui-Gon caught his gaze and smiled, mostly with his eyes. A beard helped to conceal but did not cover everything and it would not do to show blatant inattentiveness. The boy ducked his head quickly, but when he looked back, Qui-Gon was still smiling at him. They continued as such for a short time, glancing away and then back, playing a surreptitious game of tag with each other's gaze. Then the boy, with a quick glance around to ensure he wasn't seen, gave Qui-Gon an intent look and... wiggled his ears. 

Barely able to keep the wide smile from breaking across his face, Qui-Gon lifted an eyebrow infinitesimally, then did his own glance around the room before wiggling his nose in reply. The boy was clearly thrilled with the response and was barely able to contain himself successfully. He was obviously a sweet child to be around -- his Force aura was all bright colors and good cheer -- and Qui-Gon thought perhaps his posting here in the Empire wouldn't be as bad as all that. At least this child had _life._

"Naum."

With a start, Qui-Gon jerked himself back to business. The Empress had spoken... indeed, she had silenced everyone else in the room with her one word. Naum meant yes, I agree, all is in accord and is done... could she be referring to the negotiations? They were hardly through the first eight pages of the thirty-page document and she was agreeing?

Her sycophants looked shocked and the Jedi negotiators appeared stunned. Two of the courtiers leaned in to whisper frantic questions, but she lifted one elegant hand and waved them away. "Naum," she repeated. She looked frostily at the man introduced as her First Minister, a man who was struggling to control what looked to be a lethal case of apoplexy as he questioned her pronouncement. She replied to his questions in a soft, dangerous voice, though Qui-Gon could not hear the exact words she used.

After a few moments, the man -- an overdressed, overblown and self-important twit, in Qui-Gon's first impression -- bowed jerkily and turned to the Empire's translator, speaking rapidly in clipped and frigid tones. "Her Exalted Majesty agrees to the terms of the Jedi contract," the translator said, stuttering slightly, "and wishes the negotiations to end."

" _All_ of the terms?" Master Windu, senior Jedi councilor and chief negotiator of the Jedi team, looked as astonished as Qui-Gon felt, so astonished he actually directed his question to the Empire's translator, instead of his own, violating the protocol they'd been directed to use at the beginning of the talks. "We've barely begun to discuss it! And the treaty, we need to work on the treaty..."

The Empress turned her cold, blue eyes on Master Windu who actually cringed -- Qui-Gon saw it clearly and noted it in his brain as a first. Master Windu feared _nothing_.

"I think we're fine here, Mace," Qui-Gon said quietly. Windu jerked around to stare at Qui-Gon. "If her Exalted Majesty is happy with the contract, then I am as well. I can continue to work on the treaty later, after I've met with her and her ministers."

Windu looked at him as if he'd suddenly become an alien species. "Qui-Gon!" he hissed, glancing at the Empress' retinue. "You can't just..."

"I'm sure everything will be fine." He looked over at the Empress' people and inclined his head, directing his comments to both her and her translator. "If it is her Exalted Majesty's wish, then it is mine as well."

He could swear he saw a slight smile on her face, though it might have been his imagination. 

Within minutes then, rather than hours or even days, the contract was signed and Qui-Gon Jinn became the first Jedi in over a millennia to reside as an envoy in the court of the Empress of the Sith. 

While he was surprised to have been accorded such an honor, he was also wary, they had a long way to go if the Jedi and the Sith were to be once again united, which was the genuine purpose of his posting. The real treaty negotiations to accomplish that would be his full-time job in the Empire, obviously. When Mace and the others left the room -- and the world, the Jedi were leaving immediately -- Qui-Gon knew his fate was sealed. He was alone, and would be alone in representing his Order to the Sith and against their mutual enemy, the threat from beyond their system which was growing stronger and closer every day.

It was about time. He could hardly do any work with the Council breathing down his neck as usual. At least here he could pretend to feel useful.

In a further breach of protocol -- though how could it be a breach when the Empress herself did it? -- the Empress waved all of them out after the elaborate ritual of signing and sealing. She indicated her son and Qui-Gon should stay, however, which merely fed the strange fury in her senior aide. It left the three of them alone in the echoing, ornate chamber, save for her omnipresent and ignored guards.

Once the room was so cleared, the Empress sat still and merely examined Qui-Gon from under a hooded stare. He wasn't sure why, but he didn't feel uncomfortable under it. Perhaps it was because the rumors had been quite correct; she was definitely sensitive to the Force, and had an aura brilliant with the promise of power.

It was the same, or perhaps even more, with her child, who broke the silence, finally, speaking in his high little-boy voice. "Exalted Mother," he said softly, and she turned to him. "I am unsure how to address the revered Jedi. Will you give me your guidance?"

This time, the smile was definite, gentle and loving as she addressed her son. "Anikin, you may treat the revered Jedi as a member of our close advisors. As for his method of address, you will have to decide that with him. As he is your elder in both experience and age, it is our recommendation you call him Master Jinn."

Oddly enough, Qui-Gon did not feel shocked over the Empress' words, spoken in a delicate voice which somehow belied her power and rank. It was clear she had come to a decision regarding Qui-Gon during the negotiations, just as he was coming to conclusions about her. He inclined his head again, bowing deeply from his seated position. "I am honored to be so treated by her Exalted Majesty." He chose his words carefully, aware of his limited knowledge with her language. Once, Sith and Jedi spoke the same tongue; since the breach between them, the Jedi spoke only Basic. "It is my hope that I can live up to the promise of our two peoples and unite us successfully against the common enemy."

"You may use Basic when you address us, Master Jinn," she said, and Qui-Gon winced internally. He wasn't sure he had used the correct idiom. "Most of our court is competent."

"I thank your Exalted Majesty," Qui-Gon replied, relieved to be back in Basic, where he was assured of no verbal flub. "It would undoubtedly help me to be immersed in your language, however. I am certain my proficiency needs work."

"Your accent is quite clear, though you could use some work between formal and informal wording." Anikin giggled and Qui-Gon smiled ruefully. "It is our sincere wish to become better acquainted with our long-estranged brethren now living on Selonia. To that end, it is our intention to grant you every courtesy and answer your every question."

Qui-Gon bowed again at those words, then cocked his head. "May I be so bold as to take advantage of your largess to ask -- what made you cut the negotiations short?"

"Aside from the fact that it was excruciatingly boring?" Anikin giggled again. "It was your play with our son and heir." She smiled gently at Anikin and smoothed his fine, blond hair from his face. "Plus, we are used to making decisions based on our intuition, which has never been wrong." She gave him another penetrating stare before speaking again. "It is our wish our intuition will continue to be correct."

There was little Qui-Gon could say to that, so he merely bowed again. "I will... endeavor to live up to the trust you have placed in me. The threat of the Dhro to our system demands our cooperation, which I assure you is genuine, at least on my part." Whether it was on the Council's part, he had no idea, and didn't care. He knew what the Force intended for him. The Dhro must be stopped, and he would do what he must to achieve that end.

"There are those in our court, including our First Minister, who would dispute that. But regardless, your intentions are clear, as our intentions are as well. Corellia is not a democracy and our wishes are still sacrosanct. This alliance _will_ form."

Qui-Gon blinked, able to hide his surprise at her words through long practice. But his heart lightened, though he wasn't sure why. "It is as you wish, Exalted Majesty," he murmured.

The Empress nodded, then touched a spot on the table. Immediately, a page entered, stopping at attention next to her seat. "Show Master Jinn to the quarters that have been prepared for him." Turning back to her son, she added to him, "If you would like to accompany Master Jinn and show him a few of the secrets of our palace, now is the time to request it, Second Son."

With a sparkling smile, Anikin spoke rapidly. "Exalted mother, may I be excused to accompany the revered Jedi to his quarters?"

"Yes, you may." The Empress turned her smile to Qui-Gon. "A page will be appointed to your service before the end of the day. For the moment, it is our wish our son perform those duties. He is young and needs more experience with the world outside our court."

Qui-Gon nodded and stood, bowing deeply in respect. The Empress appeared to be everything he had expected, and then some. He resigned himself to the interesting times ahead of him and followed the page from the room.

To his further surprise, Anikin stayed at his side rather than ahead of him, and almost looked as though he wanted to take his hand as they walked through the enormous palace together. "I like you," the child said suddenly.

Qui-Gon looked down at Anikin and smiled. He completely ignored the wrench in his heart at the boy's simple but heartfelt words. "Thank you." After a few more steps, he added, "I like you as well." What made him say that, he had no idea.

"Mother says I should always follow my instincts, and my instincts are telling me you will be important to me, to us, and that you will help us."

Uncertain how privy Anikin was of the distant threat to their system, Qui-Gon settled for a bland agreement and nodding. "I only hope it will be so." They walked for what felt like a couple of leagues and their path was such that Qui-Gon had no idea how to retrace it. He nearly despaired at the idea of becoming more familiar with the palace. Glancing down at Anikin, he said dryly, "I believe I might need an activated homing beacon in order to find my way to my room."

Anikin giggled again, a lovely, happy sound, a sound he hadn't heard in too many years. "You're staying in the private wing. That's just for family and for high-ranking counselors. It's an honor. And I'll be glad to show you around, when my studies permit, of course," he added hastily.

"An honor indeed." Qui-Gon blinked in surprise. The private wing?

From around the curve ahead of them came the sound of running feet. Shortly, two girls pelted into view, one chasing the other. They ran into Anikin, who grabbed the younger of the two girls. "Mai, you're not supposed to be running in the palace," Anikin said with disapproval. The other girl, older than them both, reinforced this with a frown.

"It's Cli's fault," the younger one said, ducking behind Anikin as the older girl made a grab for her.

"If you hadn't stolen my favorite hair comb, I wouldn't have chased you." The older girl was Cliadle, then, the third in line for the throne, and the younger must be the youngest heir, Maisen. 

"You're lucky it was us and not Mam you ran into." Anikin grabbed Maisen's arm and wrenched the offending comb out of her hand, returning it to Cliadle. "Here. You've all but offended our guest. I think you should apologize."

"Ani, you are so full of yourself," Maisen said with a pout. "I wanted it for my doll."

"Tough."

The older girl, Cliadle, studied Qui-Gon curiously during her siblings' exchange. Finally, she dropped a small, though elegant, curtsey to him. "You must be the revered Jedi. I greet you with respect. I am Cliadle, Third." She was a dark-skinned and dark-haired girl on the verge of womanhood. Her pale eyes -- of a color somewhere between gold and brown -- looked odd and exotic in her heart-shaped face.

Qui-Gon bowed deeply, hiding his astonishment. It was strange but oddly comforting to see children behaving like children in this maze of protocol and palace, so unlike the quiet and well-trained initiates in the Temple. "Your Grace. I am Master Qui-Gon Jinn, at your service." This was, at least, one occasion when he could speak their language without reservation.

The elbow Anikin shoved in his younger sister's ribs made her say, "Ow! Ani..." His frowning face, and Cliadle's, finally made her remember her place. She dropped a poor curtsey and mumbled, "I greet you. I am Maisen, Fifth." She looked enough like Anikin to be his twin, save for the excess 'baby fat' still on her torso and her face. The pout she affected looked as though it had been born there.

Smiling gently at the girl, Qui-Gon bowed again. "At your service, your Grace." 

"I apologize for my actions and those of my sister," Cliadle said, switching to Basic. Qui-Gon noticed the scowl on Maisen's face. "She is rather spoiled and we indulge her far too much."

"It is of no matter, your Grace." Qui-Gon's smile became wider as he watched Maisen stomp away. "I take it your sister is not conversant with my language?"

"She has been instructed to learn it, but has been... um... reticent." Cliadle looked at Anikin. "Where do you take Master Jinn, Younger Brother?"

"To his quarters, Elder Sister," Anikin replied. "Our Exalted Mother has said Master Jinn is to be treated as her close advisor. I am to be his help until a suitable page is found for him."

"May I accompany you?" Cliadle smiled winningly at Qui-Gon. "When I learned Jedi were to come here, I admit to a certain amount of excitement."

"Of a certainty, your Grace," Qui-Gon replied. The page began walking again, and they followed. Qui-Gon offered Cliadle his arm, and with an impish smile, she took it. This one would break some hearts soon, Qui-Gon thought sadly, if she wasn't doing so already. 

Anikin gave his sister a teasing look. "Cliadle is our resident scholar, Master Jinn. We have to hide books around her, or else she'll pounce." Cliadle scowled briefly at her brother, then stuck out her tongue. 

Their banter was honest and open, and made Qui-Gon feel strange. He had expected the Empress' court would be filled with intrigue and backstabbing, given what the Jedi knew of the Sith. Instead, he found an obviously loving family and an Empress who seemed far more interesting and perceptive than his wildest imaginings. He once again compared the two heirs with the regimented and silent initiates at the Temple, then resolutely put the image away.

The two heirs took their tour-guide duties seriously, pointing out and explaining side-corridors as they walked, indicating this entire wing was reserved as private quarters for the royal family. Eventually, the page came to a set of ornate doors, which he pushed open. Cliadle dismissed the boy and he left without a word. "Our Exalted Mother has assigned you the quarters once occupied by her first consort," Cliadle said. They were in a small but comfortable sitting room, with three doors, on either side of the room and opposite the front door. Cliadle threw open all three, revealing a bedroom, piled with Qui-Gon's luggage, a 'fresher that looked huge and decadent, and a small balcony overlooking an interior garden. The main room was high-ceilinged and airy, with comfortable, overstuffed furniture, and a small alcove to one side, which looked to function as a rudimentary office. There was a huge basket of fruit on a side table. Qui-Gon remembered the Jedi Temple, with its cold austerity, and looked about the room with satisfaction. It was not lavish, but it looked exceedingly comfortable.

"If I may be so bold," Anikin said, and Qui-Gon turned to the boy. "I would ask a question?"

"You must feel free to ask me anything at any time, your Grace." He forced a smile to both of them, still feeling strangely uncomfortable around their openness. "How else are we to learn about each other?"

"I would be pleased if you would call me by my name," Anikin said quickly. "Well, except in those cases where Mam -- I mean, my Exalted Mother -- says it's impossible. You know those times, I think."

"Yes, I believe I do." Something, perhaps the Force, made him continue, "It would please me greatly to be considered your friend, Anikin." Qui-Gon glanced over at Cliadle, who was smiling shyly, including her with his words. "Just as it would please me for you to help me with your language. I'm afraid I'm not at all proficient."

Anikin giggled again. "You used the wrong idiom when you spoke with Mother earlier." Cliadle's eyes widened and she hid her smile behind her hand at Anikin's words. "But it's all right, since we were alone. We'll be glad to help you. It's not that hard anyway, despite what Mai says."

"Thank you." Qui-Gon felt the rightness in their exchange, and how the Force was pleased with his friendship with these children. It was something he'd have to examine in detail... later. He raised an eyebrow at Anikin. "This would be a good time to ask that question, Anikin."

"Oh!" It was Cliadle's turn to giggle and Anikin rolled his eyes at her. Qui-Gon masked his amusement by examining the fruit in the basket and pulling a few pieces out. "It's about your name, Master Jinn. What royal house are you a part of?"

Qui-Gon blinked in confusion. Absently, he held out a handful of berries to the children and Anikin took a few before bouncing on the sofa. "I don't think I understand, Anikin. What do you mean?"

"Mother said your name was Qui-Gon Jinn," Anikin said around a mouthful of berry.

"Ani, don't talk with your mouth full," Cliadle said, taking one of the berries offered. She laughed at Anikin's face. "I know what he means, Master Jinn. What house denotes Gon?"

Qui-Gon was mystified, and had no problem showing it. "There are many gaps in our understanding of Sith royalty," Qui-Gon said slowly, "and this may be one of them. Why would part of my name mean a royal house?"

"It's just your _name_?" Anikin swallowed hastily and his blue, surprised eyes turned to Qui-Gon. "You mean, you were born with it?"

"Yes." Qui-Gon looked between them and smiled in confusion. "Tell me why that's surprising to you."

"Our Exalted Mother was born Adilene of the clan Kenobi." Cliadle took a seat next to Anikin, decorously arranging her skirts around her, and Qui-Gon, after re-filling his hand with berries, sat opposite them. "When she was elevated to Empress, her name changed to denote the royal house of Wan -- Adi-Wan. We're all members of the dynasty of Wan. When our eldest brother, Obion, is elevated to Emperor, he will become Obi-Wan."

"His clan stays the same, though." Anikin was making serious in-roads on the fruit and Qui-Gon found himself smiling -- it had been a long time since he'd been around small boys, but he did remember their perpetual hunger. "Because him and Aliamon had the same father."

"'He' and Ali had the same father," Cliadle corrected him absently. "And that's not the only reason, Anikin, you're a member of Clan Kenobi too, you know, as I am. It's blood ties to the clan, Master Jinn. Mother's first consort was a distant cousin from the Kenobi clan, so Obi and Ali are doubled through both our mother and their father." She cocked her head at Qui-Gon, obviously intrigued by his differences. "Jedi don't have the same thing? Who is your ruler?"

"We don't have one, actually." For convenience, he brought the basket of fruit closer so he and Anikin could better pick at it. "The Jedi are ruled by council, a council of thirteen. When a member of the council dies or retires, we have an election to choose another to take his or her place."

"Really?" Cliadle's fingers twitched, as though she wanted a stylus to write with. Anikin obviously had more interest in eating than in the discussion. "How very odd."

"Just as your ways seem odd to me." Qui-Gon smiled at her, realizing he'd found a kindred spirit in the girl. "There is much different between our peoples, now. I look forward to discussing the differences in our ways, your Grace."

"Oh, please, just call me Cli. Everybody does." She blushed prettily, though it was difficult to tell clearly under her dusky coloring. "I've never met a Jedi before. Did you bring any books with you?"

Anikin made a snorting noise. "Don't lend them to her," he whispered loudly to Qui-Gon. "You'll never get them back."

"Ani!" 

Cliadle sounded scandalized but Qui-Gon merely chuckled. "I'll be sure to embed one of those homing beacons in them," he whispered back, winking at Cliadle. 

A possible squabble between the heirs was cut short by a knock at the door. Qui-Gon turned and bid the caller enter, only realizing he had used Basic after the door opened. He stood as a liveried servant entered the room, bowing deeply to all.

"I am Jaydon Matrin, Seneschal of the Empress, revered Jedi. I have come to discuss your serving needs and to remind certain persons they are late for dancing and history lessons."

Both heirs groaned, Anikin more theatrically than his sister. "I hate history," he groused before shoving three last berries in his mouth and bouncing to his feet. The boy seemed purely incapable of moving without bouncing in some manner.

" _I_ hate dancing," Cliadle said with a sigh. "Thank you, Jay."

"You are most welcome, your Grace. Hurry now." The Seneschal looked after the children's departure with amused fondness, closing the door after them. "I see they've managed to eat most of your fruit, revered Jedi."

"It was mostly Anikin, actually, and please, call me Qui-Gon." The Seneschal had been at the talks earlier in the day, though he had stayed mostly silent. He was a tall, lean man with a thick shock of red hair, feathered with gray, and green eyes. In his exchange with Anikin and Cliadle, he appeared to be a caring man who had a good rapport with the children. Qui-Gon could sense no real Force aura from him at all, other than the faint echo all living things had. 

He bowed again at Qui-Gon's words. "As it pleases you, I should keep to 'Master Jinn' at the most informal. It helps keep the younger ones in line."

Qui-Gon chuckled. "I can understand that, Seneschal."

"In private though..." They both smiled, obviously in accord. Qui-Gon wondered if he were Force-blind; the faint echo he felt seemed to be tinged by calm efficiency and good cheer. "I am Jay. Should you have need of anything, my code is three zeros on the teleunit." He motioned to the small array of electronics in the office niche; Qui-Gon would have called it a dataset. "That is one of the things I needed to tell you. Her Exalted Majesty has asked you be accorded the rights and privileges of one of her senior, personal aides. This rank comes with a page, a secretary and a personal valet. Since you have brought none of them with you, we will be happy to provide."

Wincing, Qui-Gon took a deep breath. "I'd rather do without the valet, if possible. I'm not at all used to it, and would probably find it more of an irritation than a convenience."

It was obviously the right thing to say; the Seneschal nodded, his approval clear in his gaze. "Quite possible, yes. I would, however, advise you to accept the secretary and the page, at least until you're more comfortable with our ways."

"That's good advice. Thank you." Qui-Gon motioned for the man to sit as he regained his seat across from the sofa. "Do I have to interview? Or will you appoint someone?"

"I already have a good page in mind, and as for secretary... there's no hurry. Tomorrow, perhaps." Seneschal Matrin smiled. "I think you have enough to do in order to settle in without worrying about interviewing a secretary."

"Thank you." Qui-Gon was deeply and honestly thankful, and with a start realized he already liked the man. "I know there are things I must learn..."

They talked for well over an hour. The Seneschal lived up to Qui-Gon's first impression of him by being candid in his description of the palace and its denizens. While he never outright praised or condemned anyone, Qui-Gon could read between the lines and draw his own conclusions. Eventually, he would decide whether he agreed with the Seneschal or not.

Among the things discussed were meals, including the 'family breakfasts' the Empress scheduled at least five days out of ten. This was her chance to meet with her children, to assess them and their learning, and to let them be as close to an ordinary family as possible for a brief time. While others in the palace weren't specifically excluded, for the most part, they were invited only rarely.

When dinners were not affairs of state, they were taken in the smaller dining room (small in that it only held one hundred people), and attendance was mandatory. The Seneschal questioned him about his clothing and told him if he wished to dress in anything other than the brown and cream of the Jedi he was to let the Seneschal know. 

Qui-Gon's request for a scorecard with people's names, rank and degree of current favor was met with sympathetic laughter.

Before they had quite finished, there was another tap on the half-open door. This time, it was a young man who bowed deeply to both Qui-Gon and the Seneschal. "Ah, Terrell. Master Jinn, this is Terrell Benk. I believe Terrell will be ideally suited to your service as a page." 

Squashing his first impulse, which was to bow, Qui-Gon settled for inclining his head. The young man was in his late teens or very early twenties, had dark hair pulled back into a neat tail, and was considerably shorter than both the Seneschal and Qui-Gon. He was wearing the livery of the Empire -- the black and dark purple of the Empire of the Sith. He had a slight smile playing about his mouth and his eyes were dark and merry. "At your service, revered Jedi."

"Please, Terrell, if we are to work together, you must call me Master Jinn. Not only am I unused to having a page, I am uncomfortable with any other title." 

Yes, that was definitely a cheeky grin trying to get out. Qui-Gon suspected he would enjoy working with the young man. "As you wish, Master Jinn."

"Terrell will show you how to access your schedule which, I'm certain, has already been set up with requests from various nobles." The Seneschal stood and brushed non-existent dust from his uniform trousers. "If you have any problems with him, please feel free to call me. Now, if you'll excuse me, I do have other matters to attend to." He smiled at Qui-Gon and bowed. "It has been a pleasure, Master Jinn."

The sincerity in those words both pleased and relieved Qui-Gon, as he smiled and bowed back. Despite the surety of his path, Qui-Gon had never been in such a tricky situation before. All the diplomatic experience in his life still ill-prepared him for becoming the first ambassador to the court of the Jedi's ancient enemies. He did not want to make any mistakes, not only for his not-inconsiderable pride but because the situation was of the utmost urgency.

Terrell proved to be a great help to him, especially in his next adventure: dinner with the royal family.

* * *

The small dining room was only half-filled for this dinner, the first of many. Terrell brought him to the door and promised to be in the same location whenever he finished, something that reassured Qui-Gon tremendously. Mentally girding his loins, he took a deep breath and entered.

Thankfully, place markers had been set at each chair. He found his place quickly, though he did not sit down. The Empress was not yet present, and those in the room were gathered in small knots, some drinking aperitifs and others merely talking. Anikin saw him and pulled him over to a group of younger people. "Master Jinn, you have to come meet my sister and everyone!"

There were several younger people in the group, and Qui-Gon was subjected to a dizzying array of names and faces, curtsies and bows. Some of the young people, it turned out, were the children of the courtiers and nobles, those who had close association with the Empress and/or the heirs. Maisen was conspicuous by her absence, and Qui-Gon thought she might still be considered too young for formal dinners. Anikin was the youngest one in the group.

A willowy, ginger-haired beauty stood apart from them, and as Anikin wound down, she approached. Her stare was aloof but not cold. "You must be our new pet Jedi," she said in her own language. Both Anikin and Cliadle frowned at her. Two or three of the others tittered. "I am Aliamon, Second."

Qui-Gon bowed deeply. "Qui-Gon Jinn, at your service, your Grace. It is an honor to meet you." Aliamon had her mother's porcelain complexion and blue eyes, but her hair -- piled artfully on her head in a heap of coppery curls -- was clearly from her father's side. Her dress was simple but the fabric must have cost a small fortune.

"Ali, that was hardly polite." Cliadle frowned at her sister, though she spoke very softly, and in Basic. "Master Jinn should have your respect."

Aliamon gave her sister a bland stare and replied in her own language. "Respect must be earned, Younger Sister. Inappropriate familiarity can breed enmity."

"Your sister is quite correct," Qui-Gon said, smiling warmly at Cliadle. He used her language, hoping he had the correct idiom. "Our two peoples have been divided for generations. For this reconciliation to work successfully, we need to learn each other once again, and we must take care in the doing so."

"Well spoken, for a Jedi." The male voice held just barely enough bored flippancy to be not quite insulting, and Qui-Gon turned. A lovely young man with long, white-blond hair worn in a tail smirked over the top of his glass. He was one of the minor nobles or perhaps the son of a trusted councilor, Qui-Gon couldn't recall from the whirlwind introductions. He was quick to notice, however, where the man's darting gaze continually aimed and realized the barb had been meant to win favor from Aliamon.

It didn't seem to work. "Master Jinn is a diplomat," she said, with a fleeting and dismissive glance at the young man who spoke. "I would expect nothing less from such a man." 

"Very well said, Younger Sister," said a cultured, honeyed, _beautiful_ voice and Qui-Gon turned to see a young man who could have been Aliamon's twin, save he was obviously older. "The Jedi have long been the enemies of the Sith. We would do well to guard our tongues around them, if nothing else."

Qui-Gon blinked; was that the heir? He must be, Qui-Gon thought. He was a bit taller than Aliamon and his eyes looked more gray or green. His hair, the same color as hers, was shoulder-length and caught in a neat tail. His beauty was definitely masculine; he carried himself regally and those intense eyes glittered. He was well-built and appeared to be strong, the kind of whipcord strength that comes from physical exertion. This was no pampered pet, then, but a young man who knew the benefits of work and who practiced it every day. Qui-Gon tamped down a frisson of desire.

Aliamon had a slight frown on her face. "I do not think we should go quite that far, Eldest Brother. He is, after all, a guest in our home."

"A guest, of course, but guests have been known to betray their hosts." 

Beautiful his voice might be, but it was also quite hard. It was obvious from his words and tone he did not agree to the Jedi presence in the palace, or even on Corellia. Qui-Gon bowed deeply. "I assure you, your Highness, your Grace, my intentions are focused solely on the peaceful rejoining of our two peoples, especially against our mutual threat." He spread his hands. "It behooves us all to unite against a common foe, does it not?"

Aliamon nodded, though her face was bleak. "I agree. I look forward to being able to converse with you more freely, Master Jinn."

"As your Grace wishes. I am at your command." Qui-Gon bowed again, glancing up as the low-key babble in the room silenced. The Empress entered, followed by her retinue, which Obion joined. Also entering was her First Minister, though Qui-Gon couldn't remember the man's name -- something that started with a 'P', he thought. People began heading for their seats as the Empress moved towards hers. Qui-Gon had already noticed, with some surprise, that his place was basically at her left hand.

Obion pulled out her chair and she sat, followed by everyone else sitting at their assigned place. Once the rustling stopped, Qui-Gon glanced around. At the head of the table was the Empress and her heir; Qui-Gon was sitting at his left. Across from Qui-Gon was the unhappy looking First Minister, an older, distinguished-looking man. The heir didn't look happy, but neither did he look sad. His face was utterly closed. He must have gotten his bland expression from his mother... the Empress' face was as devoid of emotion as a marble statue.

A small glass rested on everyone's plate, filled with a small amount of a dark amber fluid. The Empress rose and lifted her glass, and Qui-Gon was surprised to note no one else stood, though everyone picked up their glass.

"Millennia ago, Sith and Jedi were one people. We resided here on Corellia in peace and in bounty, enjoying the fruits of our labors." The Empress' voice was smooth and calm.

"Then our Jedi brethren left us to reside on Selonia -- always a part of us, but living apart from us." Qui-Gon smiled to himself; such a lovely, politically neutral way of describing the enormous rift between Jedi and Sith. "We are glad that as of today, the first steps have been taken across the chasm of cold space to rejoin our peoples. It is our sincere hope these efforts will continue, and one day, soon, Sith and Jedi will again be as one. Master Qui-Gon Jinn of the Jedi has been chosen to reside here, to facilitate that end, and we drink to him, and to the reconciliation of our long-lost brethren on Selonia." In a quick, elegant gesture, she lifted and drained her glass. Everyone followed suit.

The liqueur in the glass was pungent and smoky and slid down Qui-Gon's throat like a strip of hot satin. He could tell why the amount was small, though -- like satin in his throat it might feel, but hammer in his head it most definitely was. 

Once the toast was over, servants descended on the diners with extreme efficiency, pouring wine and bringing out the first course, a light soup. This was, at least, a situation where Qui-Gon felt at home. The rules and etiquette for such situations, at least when dealing with humans, were in large part the same galaxy-wide. Anything he was unsure of he could always watch others for.

The courses flowed smoothly, though Qui-Gon wondered about the stillness at the table. He felt it might be due to the Empress being very quiet herself, and indeed, during the main course, when she looked up and began to speak again, a murmur arose over the whole table.

"How are you settling in, revered Jedi?" she asked, her voice quiet but carrying. 

Qui-Gon sent a silent thank-you to the Force that she spoke in Basic. "Very well indeed, Exalted Majesty. I thank you for your hospitality and kindness, and for that of your very efficient staff."

"It pleases us to hear that. Your presence will be required tomorrow for an initial consultation. Your schedule will indicate the time and place, and your page will guide you." The Empress was studiously ignoring the scowling face of her minister. "It is our understanding you have met all the heirs but the First, who is seated next to you. Our son and Heir, Obion."

Bowing while still seated, Qui-Gon smiled. "I met his Highness just before dinner, informally. I am at your service, Highness."

Obion turned to look Qui-Gon full in the face and Qui-Gon felt a shock of something go through him. The heir was at least as Force-sensitive as his mother and half-brother, if not more so. He nodded briefly to Qui-Gon, then turned back to moving his dinner around on his plate; he'd barely touched anything at all, and was obviously preoccupied. The Empress had turned to speak to someone else, and under the pretext of paying attention to his food, Qui-Gon sought his calm center. When he looked up again, he was able to see Obion's Force aura, which made him frown and lose concentration. Obion's Force aura was blue-green, mostly rich and calming, but there was definitely something dimming it, or perhaps something impinging on it. There were streaks where energy appeared to be sapped or darkened. 

Absently, Qui-Gon reached for his goblet of wine to take his first sip. The goblet was halfway to his mouth when he froze, as the Force all but shrieked in his ear. Barely hiding his surprise, he put the glass back down and glanced around the table. Neither the Empress nor her heir had sipped their wine yet, though Obion was absently toying with the goblet as though he were intending upon a taste. 

Clearing his throat, Qui-Gon spoke as calmly and quietly as he could, given that he knew he was interrupting the Empress. "Exalted Majesty." When she glanced at him with a frown, Qui-Gon realized Obion was about to lift his glass. He reached out and stopped the motion, putting his hand over the top of the glass. "Do you have a food tester?"

To his surprise, he saw the Empress startle at his words. Obion was looking at him as well, a frown on his face. Luckily, no one else at the table had noticed, save for the First Minister, with whom the Empress had been speaking. He looked appalled and angry and Qui-Gon didn't know if it was at the intrusion or at the question itself.

The Empress touched a spot on the table and the strangest man Qui-Gon had ever seen materialized behind her. Qui-Gon blinked -- the man seemed to have appeared literally out of nowhere, though he had to have been in the room in order to appear so rapidly.

"Maul..." The Empress breathed, and Qui-Gon's eyes widened. So this was the strange, alien bodyguard everyone spoke of. He was a sight, to be sure; his ebony skin was marked with strange, red patterns which were possibly tattoos, and his eyes were golden-orange. There were small, round, bare patches on his bald head which looked a bit like bone or horn. He looked at Qui-Gon, his peculiar eyes coldly assessing, even as he separated some small paper strips from a larger pad and dipped one each into the glasses. The first one went into the Empress' glass, the second into Obion's and the third into Qui-Gon's. 

The papers he dipped into Obion's and Qui-Gon's turned color, becoming a rather lurid dark purple. The Empress' was unaltered.

"Your Highness, have you tasted?" Maul murmured. His voice was a smooth, cultured tenor, totally at odds with his looks.

Obion appeared to be tightly and utterly furious, holding it in by dint of will. "No."

Qui-Gon shook his head in the negative when Maul glanced at him. The minister, who had seen everything, suddenly spoke up. " _I_ have!" Maul raised his eyebrow and glanced at the Empress, who nodded slightly. The minister's wine was tested and was fine.

By this time, everyone at the table was looking towards them, various forms of shock on their faces. At some sign Qui-Gon missed, probably from Maul, servants rushed in and removed everyone's glass, whether tasted or not. No one else demanded their beverage be tested, though Qui-Gon suspected Maul would find a way to test every heir's drink. 

Anikin, who was sitting across from Qui-Gon and three seats down, turned wide, panicked eyes to the head of the table. "Exalted Mother?" His voice was calmer than his eyes, and his mother smiled gently in approval. 

"We are fine. The chief of security has everything in hand." With that, she began to eat again, and after a moment, everyone followed suit.

It was with effort that Qui-Gon turned back to eating, silently thanking the Force for its warning. When he glanced up, he saw two pairs of eyes, one blue, the other more green, focused on him. "How did you know?" Obion asked, his voice very soft, his expression suspicious. His mother's face silently asked the same question.

Qui-Gon was on the verge of responding honestly, when he paused. Part of the reason why the Sith and the Jedi were estranged was due to the Force: how it was perceived and used. Force manipulation or open Force use was illegal in the Empire, although it was obvious to him that nearly everyone in the royal family were Force-sensitive and unconsciously used it every day. Even the Empress had made a comment about her 'intuition.'

Perhaps that was his way out of this mess, then.

"I... can only say that I am, as your Exalted Mother has said she is, used to following my intuition. And I daresay I have a very keen sense of smell." That was true, though it was not what gave him the warning.

"We are grateful for both your sense of smell and your 'intuition,' Master Jinn." The Empress' eyes said even more, though her eldest son's eyes showed only confusion. 

Bowing from his seat again, Qui-Gon picked up his fork.

The rest of dinner was strange. The conversation in the room was strained and bordering on frantic at times, and it appeared the only one having a good time was the aged dowager who was quite deaf and so had missed the entire affair.

Immediately after dinner, the Empress left the room, with her heir and Maul following closely. Unfortunately, the other dinner guests all seemed to descend on Qui-Gon, with questions, with feigned interest, with even with outright flirting. Qui-Gon suspected part of it was due to his placement at dinner rather than the attempted poisoning. The minister left in a huff shortly after the Empress did. He glared at Qui-Gon all the way out the door.

The other courtiers were much less angry, and two of them were rather cloying. The white-haired young man, who introduced himself as Bruck Chun, must have decided an alliance with Qui-Gon would better serve to garner favor with Aliamon. She didn't seem to care, though, and stood aloof from the crowd, watching everyone but not participating. Qui-Gon found himself stuck between Chun and a quite lovely young lady by the name of Siri, and to his amusement, it appeared both she and Chun had a willingness to spend the evening with him.

Qui-Gon had been a diplomat for many long years, and knew how to extricate himself from such a situation. He did so with gallant ease, leaving the young people bemused and wondering what had happened to their plans for the evening. Still smiling, Qui-Gon made it to the hallway, where Terrell waited, to his relief.

"I should very much like to learn how you did that," a soft, familiar voice said... Aliamon.

"It would be my honor and pleasure to help you, your Grace. Though I find it difficult to believe you don't know how to do it." They were speaking in Basic, thankfully. Qui-Gon offered his arm to Aliamon, who took it after a moment's hesitation. Terrell led them away.

"Don't know how? I suppose I do, after a fashion." She easily kept up with his stride. "Do it well, though, I fear not. Normally, of course, it doesn't matter if I do it well or if I am clumsy at it."

"It would be difficult for someone to cry insult against an heir to the throne, I imagine," Qui-Gon said, his voice droll.

He heard her smile in her voice. "It is an unexpected benefit." They walked on through the ornate hallway. "But I do believe I shall have to take lessons from you, as ammunition against the worst happening."

Well, there was the answer to one question. At least the eldest heirs were aware of the real reason for the nascent treaty and Qui-Gon's presence in the Empire: the threat of the Dhro to their system and the galaxy. She obviously understood that Corellia would come under attack some day soon, and further, what that attack might bring. He patted her hand and spoke as sincerely as he could. "Were we only faced with something as dangerous as an overgrown garden, I would still take delight in helping you, your Grace. You have but to ask."

At his words, he felt rather than saw something thaw in the girl who had his arm. "Thank you." 

Absently, Qui-Gon wondered what had caused the change in her thinking. Before dinner, it appeared as though she were intending on keeping a distance between them. Now... He suspected it might be something to do with the 'incident' at dinner, though he was loath to ask. He had a feeling what happened would stay with him for a while. Strange; he'd been in the Empire for less than a day, yet already felt as though he were home.

"I must leave you here," Aliamon said, stopping at a cross-corridor. 

Qui-Gon released her hand, bending over it briefly. "I thank you for the company, and look forward to seeing you again, your Grace."

"Thank you, Master Jinn; thank you for everything." The look she gave him was shrewd, and he clearly saw her mother in it. "One does not wish to be elevated in rank in such a precipitous manner. Your actions this evening were appreciated." She dropped a minimal curtsey, her back perfectly straight. 

He bowed deeply in return, then watched her walk down the hall before turning back to Terrell. His page, he found, was giving him a speculative look. "Yes?"

"Thank you," the young man said. His eyes were very serious. "When Ja-- Sir Matrin asked me to volunteer for this duty, I thought it was going to be interesting." He swallowed, then turned, leading Qui-Gon on down the hall. "I think I was right."

Unsure how to respond, Qui-Gon let it go. He knew the type of information net that existed in the back halls of any place like the palace, and was unsurprised Terrell knew about what had happened. By this time, every staff person inhabiting this warren would know, which Qui-Gon realized could serve to his advantage.

"Terrell," he said, and the young man paused, turning towards him. Qui-Gon indicated they should keep walking, though he kept Terrell was at his side instead of ahead of him as he spoke, softly. "I would appreciate it if you could keep me informed of the... goings on in the palace. I don't want to intrude or eavesdrop, but it would help me immeasurably if I knew who was in favor and who was not."

The grin Qui-Gon had noticed before in Terrell was trying to break through. "I can do that, M'lor -- Master Jinn. It's hard enough for me to figure out and I've been in the palace my whole life!"

Terrell opened the doors to his suite and offered to pull up his calendar, which was a kindness, since all Qui-Gon wanted was to get out of his boots and into something more comfortable. "Sir Matrin has reserved a block of time an hour after breakfast, Master Jinn," Terrell reported, "but you have no appointments scheduled before then. There have been several inquiries, though. Shall I have your breakfast brought here?"

"Yes, thank you, Terrell." Qui-Gon removed his heavy utility belt and draped it over the back of the sofa. "Just fruit and bread, I think. Can you get me some tea?"

"I'm certain I can, Master Jinn. In fact, I can have one of the kitchen staff bring you an assortment tonight, along with a portable water heater, if you'd like."

"Marvelous." Carefully, Qui-Gon draped his stola over his belt. "That would be wonderful."

"Consider it done." He bowed formally. "If you don't require anything else of me, Sir, I'll be going for the night."

"No, that's fine. Thank you very much for your help today, Terrell. I can already tell you'll be indispensable to me very soon."

Terrell's wide, sunny grin was his reply as Terrell left the room. With a sigh, Qui-Gon stood and stretched, then picked up his equipment and took it to his bedroom. He was wrapped in his robe and ensconced on the sofa with a reader (he had been plowing through _Interactions Between Jedi and Sith: A History_ and was nearly finished) when there was a diffident knock. "Come," he called, and the door was opened by a small girl laden with a large tray. 

Hastily gaining his feet, he relieved the girl of her burden, which turned out to be several tins of various kinds of tea, a portable water heater and four large mugs. She looked surprised when he helped her get it all to the sideboard, but merely dropped a curtsey and fled when he tried to speak to her. Chuckling, he shook his head and opened the teas, sniffing each.

Most were blends he was familiar with and he found their pungent aromas soothing, reassuring him of their freshness. One was unfamiliar, but smelled delightful, so he filled the carafe and set it heating. Before it boiled, the dataset -- the teleunit, he corrected himself sternly -- pinged.

It took him a moment to work the unfamiliar controls before he suddenly found himself facing the entire, seated Council on Selonia. The 3D screen was small but had excellent quality, which meant he could, unfortunately, see every wrinkle in Councilor Windu's face as he scowled.

Qui-Gon bowed in his seat. "I was not expecting this call; my greetings to you, Councilors."

"Obviously," Windu replied, his scowl deepening as he looked at Qui-Gon.

Keeping his voice bland, Qui-Gon acknowledged his lack of Jedi tunics. "I am grateful to know my superiors have returned to Selonia safely, and remind you that while it is late afternoon at the Temple, I was just composing myself for bed here on Corellia."

He didn't miss the quick glance Depa Billaba gave Windu. While the lovely, dark-haired woman had been Windu's padawan, she had often disagreed with him, and so was considered an independent thinker. "We're aware of that, Master Jinn, and hope we haven't disturbed you. We were hoping for more information on the precipitous acquiescence of the Empress to our contract. Have you spoken with her yet?"

"Only briefly, Master Billaba, and at dinner, not alone." He sighed, then steepled his fingers together. "To my consternation, I was able to foil an attempt at poisoning the Heir and myself at dinner." The Council seemed completely taken aback at that, and even Windu looked surprised. "I have yet to determine the ramifications of that action, though after I meet privately with Her Exalted Majesty I'm sure I will know better."

It appeared the Council had no words about his revelation, so he continued. "I have, however, met all of the Empress' children, and find myself almost astonished at them."

"How so?" 

Qui-Gon turned his head to meet Councilor Ka'Ran Da's intense gaze. He was sitting forward, as were several other Councilors who hadn't been to Corellia, intent on Qui-Gon's report. Qui-Gon chose his words with care, cognizant that his transmission was most certainly tapped. "All I can say is, I was not expecting a happy, well-adjusted family, which is what I seem to have found here. The Empress obviously cares deeply for her family, as much as she does for her world. And they care for her. The rumors we have heard about their specific _sensitivity_ also seem correct, to a remarkable degree." He wasn't going to say the word, just in case, but alluding to it would serve.

Windu was nodding, his eyes narrow. "I noticed it as well. Remember the specific laws of the Empire, Master Jinn, and see to it you do not break any."

Trying his best to ignore the testiness Windu's words woke in him, Qui-Gon merely smiled tightly. "I am fully aware of my limitations here, Master Windu." What had he ever seen in Windu to indicate the man was more than merely human?

"Good. Remain that way." It was far easier with an inter-world transmission to hide his disgust at being treated like a first-year padawan. Since their aborted love affair many years before, Windu had been increasingly acerbic towards him, to the extent that it occasionally bordered on outright hostility. This seemed to be one of the occasions, for Windu was even more unpleasant than usual. "We will require status reports on the treaty situation bi-weekly."

It was all Qui-Gon could do to keep from rolling his eyes. "I will keep the Council updated as events occur," he said, still trying to keep his voice mild. "If that means bi-weekly or even more frequently, fine. If it means bi-monthly, that is what I will do. I see no need to update the Council if there is no change in status to report."

Over Windu's immediate objection, Depa Billaba said, "That will be acceptable, I'm sure." When Windu turned his glare on her, she met it with a set expression. "Please keep us up-to-date as you see fit," she added, looking at Windu, but obviously directing her words at Qui-Gon.

Qui-Gon bowed. "I will keep the Council informed as often as possible. I do not yet know my duties, if any, here, though I am told that tomorrow will be a busy day for me. I thank the Council for their trust in me and for assigning me this most interesting post."

The transmission finally ended, and Qui-Gon sat back in his chair with a groan. So much for diplomacy; he could tell that his reputation for heresy was definitely confirmed by that meeting. Closing his eyes for a moment, he tried to remember back when he was young, when he was sick and tired of the regimented, ordered ranks of Jedi and their release of all emotions to the Force. Tried to think back to the time when he had been in love with Mace Windu. When he had thought he had been in love with Mace Windu, he amended internally.

It was true; the Temple had never been home to him. He knew what was expected of him, but couldn't do it, couldn't release the emotions that felt so important to the Force. The Force had always agreed with him, but no one else ever seemed to notice. He was alone in a Temple filled with unfeeling droids who seemed bent on rejecting everything he found fine in the universe.

The water had all boiled away, and the portable heater had shut itself off. Finding himself no longer in the mood for tea or reading, Qui-Gon dimmed the lights in the main room and walked out onto the small balcony. It was dark and quiet, but the stars weren't visible through the chromatic swirl of the particle shield that protected the Empire's capital city. Light pollution often prevented him from seeing more than the brightest stars from the Temple on Selonia, but he could always see a few. Here, he could see none, and even Corellia's two small moons were barely visible. Despite being able to _feel_ the stars, their invisibility bothered him, and he wondered how long he would have to live without their familiar light. Wondered, further, if the shield would actually work to keep them safe, to keep the Dhro and his conquering force at bay.

He stood on the balcony long enough to become chilled before turning back in and heading for his bed.

* * *


	2. Chapter 2

**CHAPTER TWO**

Qui-Gon woke with a start the next morning, momentarily disoriented. He was lying on a sinfully large and soft bed in a room flooded with sunshine, and someone was moving around just beyond his door. He shook the last vestiges of sleep from his head and pushed the covers back. It felt strange not being up before the sun and he realized he must be still living on the Temple's time. He would have to adjust: he generally preferred to exercise upon waking.

He heard the front door to the suite open and close and smelled some lovely aromas as he struggled to the side of the bed and out of the oppressively comfortable sheets and blankets. By the time he managed to wrap himself in his robe, there had been a tap on his bedroom door. He opened it to find his page and a servant from the kitchens setting out what looked like a small banquet on the sideboard. 

Terrell greeted him with a smile and explained how the Empress had superceded his breakfast wishes, adding far more food than one person could eat at a sitting. He managed to get Terrell to sit with him and help him. Qui-Gon had the amusing idea she might have set up his breakfast deliberately in order to feed Terrell and allow him time to become familiar with Qui-Gon. He looked forward to meeting her one-on-one, to test his theory.

Once Terrell loosened up, Qui-Gon was pleased to have a lovely breakfast consisting of good food and interesting conversation. Terrell was mindful of Qui-Gon's earlier request, and talked freely about the various members of the court. Within the space of an hour, Qui-Gon discovered that while Maul was feared, he was also respected; while Palpatine was despised he was neither feared nor even much respected; and while Obion was loved, he was also the object of concern. The lovely young man who had tried to entice him the evening before happened to be a ward of Palpatine's by the name of Bruck Chun. He was roundly detested by the palace staff. The young woman who had tried the same was Siri Tachi, the daughter of an elderly minister who had been a friend of the Empress' father. She seemed to be, so the gossip went, bent on bedding every single person in the palace, and had succeeded with an astonishing number. Aliamon, the second heir, had grown into a sobriety that had tongues wagging. She had been very bright and cheerful until the last year or so, and no one quite knew what to make of it. Qui-Gon thought it might have been due to the threat of the Dhro.

The Empress herself seemed to be far above any gossip or description, and to the people of the palace, she simply _was_ \-- like a force of nature. 

Terrell wouldn't let him help clean up, so Qui-Gon retired to the luxurious 'fresher for his morning ablutions. The tub was huge, big enough even for his large frame, and he realized it could seat two or even three people comfortably. He resolved to a soak in the near future -- to take advantage of life so different than the Temple's harsh ways. He was amused by the thought that the Council would be appalled at such a notion.

He was sitting at the teleunit with another cup of tea when Matrin knocked on his door. Terrell let the man in, then vanished with the remains of their breakfast. 

"I trust you slept well, Master Jinn?"

"Yes, I did... A little too well, actually." Matrin smiled at Qui-Gon's rueful expression. "I was just sitting here trying to figure out how to access my calendar."

"Then I am in good time." Matrin dragged another chair into the alcove and sat with him, showing him how others could access his calendar to make appointments, and how to accept or deny them. To his chagrin, he realized he had sent an acceptance to everyone asking for his time that day, something Matrin chuckled over. "We can fix this," he said. "I have..."

There was another knock on the door, and Matrin rose. "This should be her. Bellen, come in, please. Bellen Norrell, this is revered Jedi Master Qui-Gon Jinn. Master Jinn, I believe Bellen will be ideally suited to your service."

Once again, Jay appeared to be correct. He stood back, watching with a small smile on his face as Bellen took charge of Qui-Gon. 

And take charge she did. The only downside to having a secretary was Qui-Gon couldn't get Bellen ("Please call me Belle, everyone does") to stop mothering everything alive -- whether sentient or not -- around her. She had a sense of reverence towards him he could not overcome, even when she was berating him for over-booking himself. "You can't be in two places at once, not even the revered Jedi can do that," she scolded mildly. "Now, I know Lady Merena's secretary and I can..."

When Bellen broke for air, Matrin spoke. "Master Jinn, I think we've got everything under control here. I must leave you now, but I am assured you are well looked-after in Belle's and Terrell's good hands."

Qui-Gon rose, his head whirling. "I hope you are correct, Seneschal. Thank you." He pressed Matrin's hand warmly, even as there was yet another knock on the door. This day looked to be quite confusing. Since he was up, he walked to the door and opened it, then blinked. "Lord Maul."

"It's just Maul, Master Jinn." Again, Maul's light tenor voice and cultured tones seemed at odds with his appearance. "May I come in?"

"Of a certainty." Qui-Gon held the door open and Maul entered. To his surprise, Qui-Gon found he towered over the strange man; he had seemed much larger in the dining room. Maul was dressed in black leather and carried no visible weapons. "May I get you something? Some tea?" Qui-Gon retrieved his cup from the table where Bellen was still working on his schedule.

"No, thank you; I'll only bother you a moment."

"It's no bother, I assure you." Motioning for Maul to come further in, Qui-Gon continued. "This entire day is going to be one long bother, I'm afraid."

Matrin chuckled. "I hope we don't completely overwhelm you, Master Jinn; good day to you. Lord Maul." Matrin bowed to the room and left, closing the door Maul had left open. Maul did not acknowledge either his presence or departure.

Before Maul could sit, he had to pick up Qui-Gon's reader, which had been left out the evening before. "History?" Maul asked, putting the reader on the table between the furniture.

"Well, yes, if it weren't for the fact that I actually enjoy history, I could consider it part of my mission here." He waved Maul to the chair as he regained the sofa.

"Thank you," Maul said, as he sat. "I'll be brief. I mean to convey my thanks for your timely bout of intuition at dinner last night, and to give you a warning. First Minister Palpatine is not happy about what happened and believes you poisoned the wine yourself, in an effort to get the Empress on your side."

Palpatine. That was the man's name. Qui-Gon sipped his tea, the new blend he had meant to try the evening before. It was delicious and he could tell it would become his new favorite. "I take it that, since I am not in irons, you do not believe the First Minister?"

"No, I do not." Maul regarded him steadily, his strange gold-orange eyes calm and concealing any other emotion. "If I had, you'd hardly be able to keep your lightsaber with you, even peacebonded." Qui-Gon raised his eyebrow: he hadn't known anyone knew what it was; no one else had even mentioned it. "My first loyalty is to the Empress and her family, not to government bureaucrats or flunkies," Maul continued. "It would not have disturbed me overmuch if Minister Palpatine had succumbed to poison, though the amount in either of your glasses was not nearly enough to kill, simply enough to make you very ill."

Qui-Gon raised his eyebrow. How unusual to find an honest, forthright man in such a position, Qui-Gon thought. It was a refreshing change of pace. "I thank you for your honesty," he murmured, sipping.

"The difficulty arises, of course, in that he is an influential and essential member of the court. You would do well to stay away from him and try not to earn further wrath on his part." Maul's mouth turned up in a wry smile. "If it's at all possible."

"I shall endeavor to do so." Qui-Gon smiled back at Maul, then suddenly realized something with a blink of shock. Cliadle had the same smile.

"The worst problem, of course, is his hold over Obion." Maul made a frustrated noise. "I don't understand the hows or the whys of their connection, but it is there. Whatever the First Minister thinks, Obion agrees to."

That was odd, and not a little unsettling. But it did explain the heir's enmity at dinner.

Waving his hand as if to brush the topic aside, Maul continued. "I understand you have a busy day ahead of you -- the Empress is expecting you in her garden tomorrow morning after breakfast. Your page knows the way: I will meet you at the door." Once again, Maul's look was calmly speculative. "Her Exalted Majesty has great hopes for this reconciliation attempt between Sith and Jedi. I admit to a certain skepticism on my part, but having been intimately involved with our mutual enemy in the past, I can assure you I will work as hard as I can to ensure the success of this treaty."

Once again, Qui-Gon blinked in shock. "'Intimately involved'?" he asked.

Maul sighed softly and frowned, looking away. "I am as the Dhro made me, Master Jinn. Human enough for most things, inhuman for others. It is fairly common knowledge around the court. My own... 'intuition'... tells me you will be extremely important in the near future, so I would rather have you know it from my mouth than from someone who is less fond of me." He pulled his gaze back and looked Qui-Gon straight in the eyes. "And my own intuition tells me you can be trusted. Like her Exalted Majesty, I am used to believing my intuition. It has saved me from death on several occasions."

Qui-Gon drank the remainder of his tea, letting the action cover the maelstrom whirling in his head. Maul sat still and calm across from him, obviously letting him have the time he needed. The man had been genetically modified by their enemy, the Dhro? It spoke to even further danger from the Dhro if that were the case, since they had all heard of the Dhro using cloned forces. If Maul were Cliadle's father, then yes, he would have to be mostly human. But what... ? After thinking about it for a few moments, he realized the idea didn't surprise him as much as Maul's confidence did. He'd only just met Qui-Gon, and for all Maul knew, Palpatine could be right and Qui-Gon could have been behind the poisoning attempt. 

But when Qui-Gon looked at Maul, really looked, he realized just how sensitive to the Force Maul was. Whether or not he was using it consciously, the Force was speaking to Maul. When Qui-Gon finally found his voice again, it was strained. "I... I'm not sure I know how to respond... to that startling piece of information. I can feel you through the Force, and sense both your ability and devotion to the Light, as I'm sure you can sense mine. I'm certain the Empress would not have... trusted you, so... intimately... without cause. But I must confess to a certain amount of trepidation at your revelation, though I thank you for trusting me with it."

"I understand." Maul's clear, steadfast gaze did not waver. "It has been over twenty years since I escaped from the Dhro, somehow; I have no memories of it at all, to my sorrow. It's been nearly nineteen years since I found refuge here. The Empress has been and is my salvation, in all ways. I will do everything in my power to protect her, and since she is determined to protect her world, that will be my goal as well, by extenuation. I hope to have found an ally for both of us in you, and in the Jedi."

The Force was insistently nudging Qui-Gon, and for the first time in his life, he almost felt testy with it. He wanted to make it sit still, like a recalcitrant puppy who would not stop wiggling in excitement. He knew what it wanted of him, and thought he understood why, but he needed a moment to accept it, to find the right words. All the Force wanted him to do was accept, without thought or hesitation, and that was contrary to Qui-Gon's nature. 

When he finally spoke, he did so slowly and with great deliberation. "I do not know, as of yet, what part I am to play here. However, I can assure you I have the safety of our worlds, our system, foremost in my mind." They stared at each other, wordless, for a long moment, while Qui-Gon sighed as the Force nudged him further. "Did you know, Lord Maul, that 'may you live in interesting times' is an ancient Jedi curse?" To his pleasure, Maul actually chuckled. Yes, he liked Maul, despite, or perhaps because of, his strangeness. 

"I think, then, that we have been roundly cursed by our ancestors." Maul stood with a fluid grace that spoke of his athletic ability. "One other thing, well, two, actually. First, again, you must call me Maul, not Lord Maul. I assure you, I have no title nor any wish for one."

Qui-Gon also stood, smiling. "As long as you'll call me Qui-Gon."

Inclining his head, Maul replied. "Done. Thank you, Qui-Gon. The second thing is your recent reference to an ancient and banned religion." He raised one eyebrow sardonically, even as he dropped his voice, glancing briefly at Bellen, who was still working on the teleunit. "As we both know, there is no such thing as the Force, which is why the mention of it or the practice of it has been banned in the Empire. Since I know you would never break the law, I'm certain this was merely a slip of the tongue." They stared at each other, Maul suppressing the same smile that Qui-Gon was. Yes, Qui-Gon definitely liked Maul. "It is something the Empress, and her heir, take a great interest in. You might wish to discuss it with her -- _privately_ \-- while the treaty is being negotiated."

"Thank you." Qui-Gon extended his hand. "I think we're in for interesting times, Maul."

Maul took his hand and pressed it warmly. "I think you may be right, Qui-Gon." With that, Maul turned and left the room, as quietly as he had entered.

* * *

Between Bellen's watchful, efficient gaze and Terrel's irreverent one, Qui-Gon found his day passing quickly with a veritable parade of court functionaries, Lords, Ladies, Ministers and Councilors -- he could not escape them even on another world! -- and the omnipresent children of the Empress. Anikin kept popping in and out, at least once blatantly hiding from one of his tutors, and Cliadle rather diffidently appeared several times as well, often with books in her hands as an excuse. To his confusion, he couldn't decide if he liked the attention from the children or not. On the one hand, they reminded him of all he had lost, but on the other, he saw them as a way to gain something he'd never had: a family. Not that the Jedi were supposed to seek a family outside the bare and sterile Temple.

He put the issue firmly aside. He was not on Corellia to play with children; he had a mission, in the form of the Jedi-Sith treaty, and that would take up most of his time. Of course, if there were official reasons for him to be with the children, that would be one thing. Unwilling to think more on it, he pushed his mind onto more pleasant matters.

To his surprise, Aliamon also stopped by. She shared pleasantries with him for several minutes between his appointments, and then quietly, almost shyly, asked if he would be her escort to dinner. He agreed readily, though her well-hidden but palpable relief gave him pause. Before he could say anything, however, his next appointment arrived and he had to leave his disquiet over her request in favor of seeing and being seen. 

His appointments finally ran out shortly before he would have to present himself in the dining room again. Bellen sat with him for the last part of his day and helped him work out his schedule for the next. No one but the Empress was sacred in Bellen's book, and it was with relief that Qui-Gon let her handle the polite but firm rejections and postponements. He noted the appointment with the Empress in the morning, the one Maul had alluded to, and wondered if were going to be a daily occurrence. With Bellen's help, he arranged his day much more sanely, giving himself time to visit with the children and to catch up on his reading and work on the treaty, which Bellen was privy to. A request from the languages tutor made him smile: the Empress had requested Qui-Gon's help in tutoring Maisen and Anikin in Basic, so he let Bellen schedule a daily lesson. 

Qui-Gon's gratitude towards Bellen for her help was accepted on her part with pleased embarrassment. "We'll get you straightened out yet, Master Jedi," she said before taking her leave and promising to be at his service early the next day.

He barely had time to clean up for dinner before he had to leave, escorted by Terrell, for Aliamon's rooms. He hoped his second dinner would be less eventful than his first. Even preoccupied as he was, he still noticed Terrell's adoring and longing expression when he saw Aliamon. It was obvious he had a pash for her, as Qui-Gon would have said in his own padawan days.

Dinner was again stuffy and formal, though sitting next to Aliamon helped Qui-Gon endure it. It was obvious she was using him to avoid Bruck Chun, who sat on her other side and tried (and failed) to get her attention. Qui-Gon privately resolved to seek information about the boy's interest in her, and, if it were possible, to cut such interest short.

By the time dinner was over, pleasantries and cordials shared with many of the people he had met one-on-one earlier in the day, and a long walk back to his rooms, Qui-Gon found himself exhausted. Resolving to wake earlier the next morning so he could exercise, he collapsed into his too-soft bed and slept.

* * *

When Terrell came into Qui-Gon's rooms early the next morning, he found Qui-Gon on the balcony, exercising. The young man stopped and stared, his mouth hanging open, as he watched Qui-Gon step through an elegant, minimalist kata. The serving staff, entering with breakfast, broke his rapt attention before Qui-Gon had to stop exercising, something for which he was grateful.

The balcony left much to be desired in the way of floor space; Qui-Gon couldn't indulge in the running and leaping exercises he so enjoyed, but it was better than trying to move furniture around in the large room. He would have to speak to the Seneschal about using an empty room, perhaps. Or a gymnasium -- there must be one somewhere in the warren of the palace.

He was ready and on time for his first appointment, and met Maul with a nod. Terrell told him he'd be around to guide him whenever he was done, and Maul opened the door which let him into paradise.

That's what it looked like; a small interior garden which was a riot of color, scent and sound. The color came from everywhere: flowers, plants, even the small paving stones of the path he was on. The scent was not overwhelming but refreshing. The sound was from birds perching in a large tree at the center of the garden. Seated on a bench across from the tree he found the Empress.

She was dressed simply; the heavy, ornate robes she had worn during negotiations and at dinner were gone, and in their stead was a simple gown of blue, gathered about her and fluttering through the gaps in the wrought-iron bench. She acknowledged Qui-Gon's entrance with a glance, but didn't move, continuing to watch the birds' antics with a small smile on her face.

Qui-Gon joined her on the bench, copying her pose. The birds were raucous, rude, noisy and amusing. They jockeyed for position on the tree, fighting over the bird feeders dangling from several branches, unwilling to give up even the smallest of territories. It was rather like the way he saw the court, though it could be any court on any world. After a while, they began to fly away, leaving only a few extremely hungry ones.

"They're great mimics," the Empress said. Her voice sounded less formal as well. "Ani keeps trying to teach them rude noises. Luckily for us all, he hasn't succeeded."

Qui-Gon chuckled. "From what I've seen of Anikin, that sounds very much like him."

"He is greatly taken with you, Master Jinn. We are not certain which would be more wise -- to warn you or to warn him."

Qui-Gon shook his head and smiled. "From what I've seen of your younger son, Exalted Majesty, I do believe warnings of any kind would be superfluous. He is a wonderful boy, bright and full of promise. I look forward to getting to know him better."

The Empress smiled. They fell silent, and Qui-Gon almost felt he could meditate. The garden was so well laid-out and life ran so rampant through it that he felt very near to the living Force, and it comforted him. Selonia was home, but it was nothing like this. He could become used to it very quickly.

"Tell us, Master Jinn, what do you know of our reign and our people?"

Glad he had done his reading the evening before, Qui-Gon smiled. "All I know, Exalted Majesty, is what I've read in books. Your reign has been one of the longest in your history, and the scholars are already calling it a golden age of the Sith. You were very young when your father died and you ascended the throne, eighteen I believe--"

"Seventeen," she corrected him gently, without looking at him.

Qui-Gon inclined his head. "Seventeen. A terribly young age to assume such responsibility, but your youth doesn't appear to have had ill-effects on the Empire." Their voices were soft and the breeze was warm. Qui-Gon let his legs stretch out before him and crossed his ankles. "Your father, the Emperor Oti-Wan, was much-loved and was quite innovative in his ideas, something you have continued, to the benefit of the Jedi. You have reigned now for over thirty years and have given the Empire five heirs, from different consorts. It is very evident, at least to me, that the Empire has flourished under your hand. Your people are lucky to have you, Exalted Majesty." Qui-Gon hoped his sincerity came through in what he said, for he did not mean his words as lip-service.

They sat in silence for a long time, though it was not a strained one. The Empress' voice, when she spoke next, was soft and had an undertone of sadness to it. "Our people..." Qui-Gon glanced at her, but her focus was far away. "We are a hide-bound people, Master Jinn. Change does not come easily, no matter how beneficial it may be. But change, we will have to, if we are to survive this threat to our world -- to our system -- intact."

Qui-Gon sighed. "I would agree with you there, Exalted Majesty. However, I would remind you resistance to change is normal." He spread his hands. "Were it not, many good things could come far easier than they do."

She glanced at him then away again. "The treaty between our peoples is a change not looked upon with uniform acceptance. There are many who oppose it; some, quite vehemently. Even for an Empress of the Sith, forcing change is difficult."

Qui-Gon nodded. "But worthwhile."

"Yes, this is a change that is very worthwhile. Our only fear is..." She sighed. "Is it too late?"

Frowning, Qui-Gon mulled over her words. Choosing his own carefully, he answered her as honestly as he could. "I do not believe any time to be too late, Exalted Majesty. Where there is life, there is hope, and the Dhro is not near Corellia's system yet. That you have been willing to set aside our ancient enmity and reach out to us gives me further hope." He smiled crookedly at her. "I very much fear had it been left to the Jedi, this entire situation would not have come about."

"That is good to hear, Master Jinn," the Empress replied. "And it gives us hope; hope that perhaps it is not too late for all of us." Still focused on something far away, she frowned. "Anikin has been waking with nightmares, these past few weeks. We are... concerned." 

His brow furrowing, Qui-Gon considered those words. Anikin was extremely powerful within the Force, but untrained, as all the royal family was. There had to be a level of understanding there, however, for they had not been driven mad, as happened to many untrained Force adepts. Then again, he did not know how they perceived the Force.

Before he could bring the subject up, the Empress spoke again. "Tell us now about our brethren on Selonia. It has been many long years since we have had consistent relations with you, and then, of course, we were at war."

"Hopefully this treaty, once configured and signed, will keep it from happening again," Qui-Gon murmured, his mind still on the puzzle of the royal family's use of the Force. "We are a simple people, Exalted Majesty. The Jedi are trained as warriors, it is true, but we are far more comfortable in the role of mediators, as diplomats." Setting aside his puzzle, he tried to honestly describe the Jedi, bearing in mind his acceptance of them was often complicated by his disagreements. 

"We are ruled by a Council of thirteen, who are elected from within the ranks of Masters. There can be no posturing or politicking; a list of those eligible is posted and the voting is open to all, senior padawan and above. Occasionally there are situations where two or three masters will get a similar number of votes. In those cases, there will be a second election to break the tie." Qui-Gon glanced at the Empress and smiled sardonically. "It is a flawed system, but it seems to work most of the time."

"The Jedi have far more experience with off-worlders than we do, is this not true?" The Empress' voice was still light, still curious.

"Yes, we have been much in demand over the last few centuries, in our system and in others in the Allied Worlds. We frequently visit Drall and Talus, for example. I, myself, have been as far as Naboo, a long month's travel and more. We have often traveled to Alderaan and to Coruscant, the great city-planet." Naboo had been a beautiful world though, one he had enjoyed visiting. Now, it, too, was under the threat of the Dhro according to their latest information.

"Naboo is familiar to us," the Empress said, and Qui-Gon blinked. "Our hope is that our sister-monarch will win her freedom to come here if necessary, as is our wish." The Empress hesitated before continuing. "We are not certain of Naboo's fate, and fear for her and her people."

"Queen Amidala is a formidable young lady, Exalted Majesty. If there is any way for her to escape the Dhro, she will find it." He hadn't known about the Empress extending asylum to those rulers of planets threatened by the Dhro. It added to the puzzling tapestry he was weaving of the woman's nature. "It is a long way from Naboo to Corellia, even with the fastest ships. If her planet has fallen, if she has escaped, she may still be in transit, may still be trying to avoid the Dhro's forces. The latest intelligence I have from the area says he's on the move again, massing his forces."

"The latest intelligence?" The Empress turned and regarded him with her deceptively mild gaze. "There is much we do not know about the threat facing us, Master Jinn. It is our hope that, working together, the Sith and the Jedi can become the last bastion against this incursion by the Dhro."

"It is my hope as well, Exalted Majesty." He gave her a wry, half-smile. "But change comes with effort on our side as well. If your people seem hidebound, mine might be considered glacial."

Her response to his mild gibe was a twitch of her lip. "We must assume that is why our reluctance for a formal reception was greeted with such enthusiasm -- on the part of the Jedi, at any rate. There were those in the Court who were most displeased at not getting an opportunity to trade insults."

Qui-Gon chuckled quietly. "We are not accustomed to being on the receiving end of state dinners, Exalted Majesty. I confess I was pleased as well."

"Your simpler ways will take some getting used to in the Court, Master Jinn. We look forward to the upheaval beginning." Qui-Gon blinked at the Empress, but her face was utterly bland. "The Organa family on Alderaan has been in touch with us as well," she said after a moment, returning to the topic. "Their system is already under siege from the Dhro. We have given them amnesty, should they need it." It didn't surprise Qui-Gon overmuch, now that he knew about Naboo's queen. 

"Your Exalted Majesty is both kind and shrewd. Had we the resources at your command, the Jedi would be offering the same amnesty. The pattern of incursion by the Dhro shows our system will be approached within the next few months -- the last of the Allied Worlds." He looked into the middle distance, his actual sight light-years away. "Make no mistake, Exalted Majesty, the Dhro will come. His expansion is like a cancer, absorbing everything, the good and the bad, of our galaxy. It is up to us, over the next months, to ensure the Corellian system is where he stops. Having the strength of others behind us will only help us." 

He heard the Empress swallow next to him, but did not look at her, giving her some privacy to think. When she did speak, her voice was whisper soft. "We are not used to being afraid."

"None of us are." Qui-Gon glanced at her from the corner of his eye and saw her pale face. "We have grown complacent in our strength, smug in our surety of our armament. But divided... divided we were certain to fall. Together, we have a much better chance." After a moment's thought, he added, "There have been foreseeings among the Jedi: great troubles are coming. There is not much that would have persuaded us to reach out to you, but between those foreseeings and the Empire actually reaching out to _us_..." he trailed off, spreading his hands. He wondered if he should equate Anikin's nightmares with the foreseeings of the Jedi, for he felt it was nearly certain they were, but at the last moment, he hesitated. Even after Maul's comments on the subject the evening before, he recognized he still had lengths to go before he felt entirely comfortable raising the possibly volatile topic of the Force and its use.

They fell silent, she obviously wrapped in her own thoughts much as he was. Yes, the Force would have to be addressed at some point, but Qui-Gon wanted to avoid it until he felt more sure of his path, of his status here. With only slight surprise, he realized he already felt welcome. But his presence was still precarious, and though he had made friends, he knew better than to rely upon the kindness of others. The Empress would be the deciding vote, and he could wait. They still had time. Not as much as he would have wished, but it would be enough.

A tiny, musical chime sounded and the Empress straightened. "It would please us greatly to continue this conversation tomorrow morning, Master Jinn. Seeing you later in the day would be preferable, but time is limited for both of us, unfortunately." She paused, then looked straight at him. Her face was still serious but her eyes were dancing. "Though your secretary has helped matters a great deal."

Qui-Gon rose, bowed and offered his hand to help the Empress rise. She took his hand and rose gracefully. "We had best get our day started then." He released her hand and bowed again, deeply. "I look forward to further discourse with you, Exalted Majesty."

"I do as well, Master Jinn." He followed her back along the path where she met Maul and he met Terrell. It wasn't until he reached his rooms that he realized she hadn't used the royal 'we' in her last sentence.

* * *

It was another busy day for Qui-Gon, one of meetings, tutoring and exploration, though less of the latter than he would have liked. It culminated in the arrival of two datacrystals of information from Councilor Mace Windu. Qui-Gon shook his head ruefully. He should have known the Council would be riding his back on this mission, even from afar: after their live transmission of the other day, he knew they wouldn't trust him not to do something 'rash.' A quick check of the encrypted crystals told him they also contained the latest information on the Dhro, so he put them in his belt pouch and promised himself he'd read them both after dinner.

There were considerably fewer people at dinner that evening, and a much less formal air. Apparently, now that he was firmly set into his place in the palace, he was much less interesting. Place cards still helped him find his seat, which was next to Aliamon, who once again clung to his arm as they entered the room. Qui-Gon noted but did not comment on Bruck Chun's narrow-eyed expression when he saw them enter together. The Empress entered shortly after they did, and Qui-Gon gallantly pulled Aliamon's chair out for her, after quickly and quietly swapping the place cards so that he sat next to Chun, rather than her.

Chun looked sulky as he sat, but Aliamon sent Qui-Gon a smile of gratitude. Gone was the composed, self-assured young lady he met at his first dinner; Qui-Gon wondered at the change, and further wondered if it was in reaction to Chun or something else entirely. He knew the attempted poisoning on Qui-Gon's first day had rattled her, but he couldn't see her turning to him solely because of it. Though he did not mind providing her an escort to dinner; for the most part she was a lively companion, now that she had become more used to him.

The heir did not enter with his mother. However, as the diners were just beginning with the first course, he hurried in, with Maul at his side. The Empress made no comment on it other than to nod to Obion as he took his chair. He looked... preoccupied, and did not look up from his plate for anything.

Palpatine was again at the Empress' right, and as he had done since the first night, he glowered at Qui-Gon for most of the dinner. There had been no other problems since that first, almost disastrous dinner, and Qui-Gon idly wondered just who had been sacked from the serving crew in the fallout from the attempted poisoning. The Empress talked to her two eldest children only in passing, and Obion replied minimally, if at all. Neither Anikin nor Maisen were present, though Cliadle sat three or four seats down from Qui-Gon on the other side of the table. Qui-Gon tried to be a good companion to Aliamon, but she seemed as preoccupied as the rest of her family. She frequently glanced at Palpatine, always frowning down at her food immediately after.

Shortly after dessert was served, the Empress rose and left the room with Obion, Maul and Palpatine in tow. Qui-Gon looked to Aliamon but she didn't seem inclined to rise from the table yet, though she toyed with her wineglass pensively. "Your Grace?"

She almost flinched at his words, and smiled in mute apology. "I must beg your pardon, Master Jinn." Lifting her glass, she took a last sip. "I seem to have much on my mind. May I bother you to escort me back to my quarters?"

Still puzzled, but willing to play the protector for her (even more willing to skip the after-dinner cocktails), he rose, helped her from her chair and offered her his arm again. Bruck Chun was radiating displeasure but Qui-Gon ignored him, preferring to concentrate on Aliamon. The child seemed more than pensive, she appeared to be downright depressed, and Qui-Gon was at a loss how to help her.

Terrell met them at the door to the dining room and led them off towards the private wing. Finally deciding to speak instead of staying mute, Qui-Gon patted Aliamon's hand. "Is something wrong, your Grace? May I be of service to you?"

She sighed in reply, and Qui-Gon respected her silence as they walked, hoping she'd break it if she felt comfortable, if he didn't press. A few moments later, his wish came true. "It's probably nothing," she murmured. If they hadn't been walking together, he might not have heard it. "I think perhaps we're all a bit... jumpy."

Giving weight to her words, Qui-Gon nodded. "There is much to be jumpy about," he conceded. "But don't discount your feelings automatically. "It isn't paranoia if they truly are after you."

She chuckled at his words and he felt the strain in her decrease. "I don't..." She paused as they made the turn towards her rooms. "I don't like being pursued." Qui-Gon nodded mutely, showing a willingness to listen. "Not with such single-mindedness. It simply doesn't feel right. There are those... there are some who..." She trailed off, remaining silent for several paces. "Mother says I should listen to my instincts, but often, of late, I feel those instincts are false, that they're leading me astray, and I'm not certain why."

They came to a stop before her suite, and Terrell opened the door for them, though they didn't enter. Qui-Gon frowned in thought. "What are your instincts telling you, your Grace?"

Aliamon's brow was furrowed as well. She took a deep breath and seemed to choose her words very carefully. "They tell me... they tell me certain people are not to be trusted, and I don't know why. They tell me some I have known for years are not who I knew at all." She swallowed. "I am... They tell me I should be frightened." She finally looked Qui-Gon in the face, and he felt a burst of sympathy for the confusion and pain he saw in her eyes. "They also tell me I should trust you. Should I listen, Master Jinn?"

Qui-Gon took both her hands in his while he thought about his reply. He felt no specific warning from the Force about the younger heir. Her Force signature was far less bright than Obion's, which was odd since they were obviously full brother and sister, but she had no obvious taint. When he spoke, he did so with as much sincerity as he could. "I think you should listen to your mother and trust your instincts, your Grace." He gave the small hands he held a gentle squeeze. "If I may be so bold... there is something that often helps me when I have run up against questions such as you are facing: meditation. I do not know if you have been trained in it, but I would be glad to help you learn the technique. It is a method whereby your mind is cleared and your thoughts examined dispassionately. It may help you."

She nodded, her eyes staring into his intently. "I have heard of it, though I've never tried it. Some say it's illegal use of... you know. Do you think it would help?"

"It might," he said. "It's not for everyone, and it's not illegal. But I can sense the confusion within you, and if I can help, I will."

She looked down, a smile playing about her lips as she flushed, lightly. "Thank you. I would like that."

Pleased he had helped relieve her mood, he patted her hands. "Since I have a secretary now, I'll have her contact you to set up an appointment. Perhaps in your mother's garden." She was such a lovely child, and seemed so troubled that it tugged at Qui-Gon's heartstrings. He lifted one hand and tucked it under her chin, gently raising her eyes to his again. "You have but to ask, your Grace. As I said, if I can help, I will."

"Thank you, Master Jinn." She smiled -- a genuine, if tired smile -- and with a small curtsey to his deep bow, walked into her rooms.

Terrell gave him a curious look before he turned and led Qui-Gon back down the corridor. Since Qui-Gon suspected Terrell's feelings for Aliamon ran deep, he thought he understood where the look came from, but didn't comment upon it. As they turned the corner, on their way back to Qui-Gon's rooms, raised voices from behind them made Qui-Gon pause. He thought he heard Palpatine's voice, and further, he thought he heard his name.

He stopped, looking back with a frown, and Terrell finally joined him. "Master Jinn?"

Glancing at his page, he spoke softly. "Where are those voices coming from, Terrell?"

Looking around Qui-Gon's shoulder, Terrell answered in an equally soft voice. "It sounds like it's coming from the smaller library's sitting room. Her Exalted Majesty often uses it as an informal meeting room."

For a moment indecisive over whether to break in on the meeting, his mind was made up by hearing his name spoken loudly and with scorn in Palpatine's voice. "I find I have a craving for a book to read before bedtime," Qui-Gon said. "Can you wait for me?" 

"Certainly, Master Jinn." Terrell's face was composed but his bright, amused eyes betrayed him.

Qui-Gon had been so busy with everything -- appointments, meetings, dinners, breakfasts, lunches, various heirs to the throne -- he hadn't had time to explore his own quarters thoroughly, much less the rest of the wing or even a small fraction of the city-sized palace. He'd seen the room he entered from the corridor as he walked by, and it had seemed cozy: a small room, lined with bookshelves; two bay windows with padded seats; a fireplace for chill evenings. There was another room off of it, which he hadn't seen, and from it he again heard the voice of First Minister Palpatine, at some volume.

"You are being too trusting of him! How do we know the Jedi are even on our side?"

"You are out of order." Qui-Gon blinked, taken aback at the icy voice of the Empress. 

"He is not. It is a legitimate question, and one I'd like to hear answered." Obion's voice was not nearly as cold as his mother's.

Plastering on his most guileless face and tucking his hands into the sleeves of his tunic, Qui-Gon walked to the doorway. "Your pardon, Exalted Majesty, I was passing by and thought I'd heard my name...?"

"Master Jinn." The Empress looked grimly pleased at his interruption, though Palpatine looked surprised and furious. "How fortuitous. Minister Palpatine has made some allegations against you that you may wish to refute. Minister?"

Palpatine glared first at the Empress, then turned the glare on Qui-Gon. "It has come to my attention you are receiving clandestine information from outside the Empire," he said through gritted teeth. "Furthermore, I have reason to believe you are in contact with someone who is in known collusion with the Dhro."

Qui-Gon cocked his head, releasing his frustration and somewhat inappropriate humor to the Force. "Clandestine? I have received live transmissions from Selonia my first night here, and yes, more information came into today, but it could hardly be construed as clandestine. Council member Mace Windu sent me two data crystals. I have not had time today to do more than glance at them -- it appears to be the latest information on the Dhro's movements." He opened his belt pouch and withdrew the crystals. "I was on my way back to my suite, after escorting her Grace to her rooms, and had intended on studying them tonight."

Maul, his parti-colored face completely impassive, looked from Palpatine to the Empress. "Thank you, Master Jinn," the Empress said. Her voice was as flat as the table at which they sat. "We would appreciate an update from you tomorrow morning, when we meet."

Bowing, Qui-Gon nodded. "I would be happy to report to you, and to give you copies of the crystals, if you wish."

"You have our thanks."

Looking back to Palpatine, Qui-Gon spoke blandly. "I am not certain what you're referring to in your other statement, First Minister. Could you elaborate?"

Palpatine swallowed and, with visible effort, calmed himself. "I don't believe you can deny your dealings with a man who is now very high in the ranks of the Dhro's forces. His name is Xanatos T'Crion, and I happen to know--"

"I am in no contact in any way, shape or form with my former padawan, First Minister." Qui-Gon didn't bother to hide his anger in his clipped words as he interrupted the stuffed shirt. "The person you allude to is as good as dead, as far as anyone in the Jedi Temple is concerned. He fell to the Dark, and his path is now his own."

Qui-Gon was aware of the stares from the Empress, Maul and Obion, but didn't take his gaze from Palpatine, who was frowning thunderously. "Then you do not deny this person was once your apprentice?" Palpatine ground out.

"To my sorrow, I cannot deny that. As for being in contact with him, rest assured I have not, nor will I be." Drawing himself up to his full height, Qui-Gon hid behind his statement and allowed nothing else to show, either in his voice or his face.

"Thank you, Master Jinn." The Empress' voice was soft and carried the merest hint of apology. "You have saved us some time -- we were about to send for you. We bid you a good evening, and look forward to your report in the morning."

Qui-Gon swept into a low bow, aiming it at three of the four persons present, then turned and strode from the room. Terrell had to almost run to catch up to him, since Qui-Gon was in no mood to slow down. He was furious at that idiot of a minister, who was as bad if not worse than some of the dolts on the Jedi Council.

A puffing Terrell regained his place before Qui-Gon as Cliadle's soft voice made him pause. "Master Jinn?" She had appeared out of a cross-corridor, a large book under her arm. "I'm sorry, is this a bad time?"

Taking a deep breath and releasing his anger into the Force, Qui-Gon dredged up a genuine smile for the child. "No, of course not. I was just heading back to my quarters."

He offered her his arm and she took it tentatively. "I have the book you asked about, the one about mother's history since becoming Empress," she said, as they continued walking to Qui-Gon's rooms. "I thought I would drop it off for you this evening."

"That would be a kindness, your Grace. And I can loan you the history of the Jedi you were interested in as well."

"Is something wrong?" Cliadle was frowning up at him, and he realized he was speeding his pace up again.

"I must apologize," he said, slowing once more. "I'm afraid I've allowed someone to goad me into anger. I didn't mean to take it out on you."

They reached Qui-Gon's rooms and Terrell opened the door for them. "It must have been the First Minister," Cliadle murmured. "He's not a very nice man." Qui-Gon stopped and blinked at her words. She turned and gave him an impish smile. "I know it's not a very politic thing to say, but none of us like him very much... well, none of us save Obion, and I don't know why he's suddenly changed where that man is concerned." She sighed. "Mother tells us there are things and people we must simply accept, for there will be times when we may have to do unpleasant things for the good of all. However, she also tells us that even though we may _have_ to do something, we aren't required to _like_ it. We're just required to do it."

Taking a long moment to parse that extraordinary statement, Qui-Gon found himself having to hold back laughter. "Your mother is a very wise woman," he finally said, grateful for the release of tension her words engendered in him. "And I think you have inherited quite a bit of that from her. I foresee you becoming quite an asset to your Empire, your Grace."

Cliadle wrinkled up her nose and giggled. "Oh, I hope not," she said. "I'd rather just find a library somewhere and hole up for a few decades. Obion can have the throne and scepter... I wouldn't know what to do with them."

Reserving his judgment on that opinion, Qui-Gon stayed silent. 

The book Cliadle was interested in was one of about a dozen real, bound books he'd brought with him, and was very old. Most of the works he'd brought were in crystal form, which was quite a bit easier to carry. He gave the book over to her eager hands, and she almost caressed the cover, ooh-ing and ahh-ing. "I'll take good care of it," she said, hugging the book to herself.

"I know you will," Qui-Gon assured her. He glanced at the much more recent tome she offered him in trade. "I appreciate this very much, my dear. Thank you."

"Oh, thank you, Master Jinn." She smiled at him and, after a moment, added, "Ali told me you were going to help her learn meditation. Is that true?"

Nothing is faster than sister gossip, Qui-Gon thought wryly. "Yes, I did. Would you like a lesson as well?"

"Yes, I would." She leaned forward, dropping her voice. "I think I can already do it, but I know Ali needs to learn. I thought if I joined you, she'd feel less self-conscious."

"Why do you feel your sister needs to learn how to meditate?" The door to his suite was open, so Qui-Gon dropped his voice as well. 

"She's..." Cliadle stopped herself and frowned down at the carpet. "I'm just worried about her. She's scared for Obion -- we all are -- and... well... I think it would be the better for all of us if we were to learn about... you know. The thing we can't talk about." She smiled winningly at Qui-Gon, who raised an eyebrow. "The thing the Jedi use that we Sith can't."

Ah, the Force. Suddenly, Cliadle's motivations became clearer. He imagined Cliadle, the scholar of the brood, would have a better idea of what it was and what it could do than any of them, with the possible exception of her mother and father. It was definitely time to test the waters by speaking to the Empress about it.

"I'll make sure Belle includes you in the invitation, Cli. I hope I can help both of you."

Deciding his hectic day had given him more than enough to do, Qui-Gon released Terrell and changed into a comfortable robe and slippers, brewed some tea and settled on the sofa with the book Cliadle had brought him. He found he didn't want to spoil the good mood the child had gifted him by looking at the information from the Temple, since he already felt it was bad news. Instead, he began skimming through the comprehensive history of the Empress' reign.

The Empress had five children by three different men, but only two were official consorts, according to the history. Maul's name was never mentioned, though Cliadle's was, along with her birth records. Obion and Aliamon were full siblings, sired by Orrem Kenobi, a distant cousin from a city on the other side of the planet. Orrem appeared to have been the Empress' childhood sweetheart given that they were married shortly after her coronation. Since it wasn't strictly necessary to marry to be a consort to the head of the Empire, Qui-Gon had to assume there was genuine love on both parts. Indeed, when Orrem had been assassinated, a bit over a year after Aliamon's birth, the Empress had gone into seclusion and had stretched the time of mourning to almost a year, until someone had arrived and caught the female assassin. It must have been Maul who did so, Qui-Gon realized, remembering Maul's words and doing the math in his head.

According to the history, the assassin had been put to death. The Empire's somewhat archaic laws carried a variety of interesting and gruesome means to execute someone who had committed such a crime, but there was no further information on what had happened to the woman. For some reason, Qui-Gon suspected there was more to the story than he could see, and made a mental note to check into it. He also noted sourly the ancient custom of Inheritance was still alluded to: the heir to the Empire must kill his or her sire before ascending the throne. He assumed -- he hoped -- it was something that wasn't adhered to any longer.

Her second and last consort, Anikin's and Maisen's father, seemed to have been a political alliance. The man had been from Alderaan, of the royal House Organa. It didn't seem to be a very romantic match, and Qui-Gon wagered Maisen's arrival surprised everyone involved. The man had since returned to Alderaan and had risen quite high in the political arena.

There was much that wasn't overtly stated in the book. Hints, allusions, the politic way of referring to a sitting monarch -- all of it merely whetted Qui-Gon's appetite for more. He was drawing a picture of the Empress in his mind, one that surprised him.

Before finally retiring for the evening, Qui-Gon recorded in his journal and meditated on the balcony for a good hour, preparing himself for the onslaught of bad news. When he finally got around to reading the reports Mace Windu had sent, he was glad for his preparations, for the news was worse than he had suspected.

* * *

He was preoccupied at breakfast, copying the data crystals the Temple had sent him and re-reading some of the reports in preparation for his meeting with the Empress. Bellen hadn't arrived and he didn't expect her until after he returned. Terrell thankfully respected his silence and was merely efficient -- and hungry. He put up little more than a token resistance to joining Qui-Gon in eating.

After a quick wash and change, Qui-Gon was on his way to the Empress' garden. Terrell left him with Maul, to whom Qui-Gon offered the crystals he had burned. "Unencrypted copies." One of Maul's hairless eyebrows lifted. "I'd advise you to read them soon... you will need to know what has happened." Not speaking, Maul merely nodded, his face grim.

The Empress was in the same place, watching the raucous birds at their breakfast. Though Qui-Gon hated to do it, he felt it were best done quickly, and he knew their time was circumscribed by other appointments. He waited, standing with his back to the birds, for her attention. When he had it, he spoke as gently as he knew how.

"Naboo has fallen."

She didn't move, though she closed her eyes and swallowed. Qui-Gon sat next to her, wondering if he should offer comfort, wondering whether it would be accepted.

"It is as we've feared, then." Her voice was soft and pained. "Is there any word...?"

"Of Queen Amidala? No. But that may be a good thing. The Dhro certainly doesn't have her."

"As you have said, where there's life, there's hope." The noise began to lessen as the birds flew off. "What of Alderaan?"

"The man who calls himself the mouth of the Dhro has made his final... he calls it offer, I would call it threat. I believe it was the same as the others -- capitulate or be invaded. I expect House Organa will reject it." Qui-Gon leaned forward and let his hands dangle between his spread knees. It helped to keep him from looking at her, since he felt she could use the semblance of privacy. "Our latest intelligence says the Dhro's droid armada, which is no longer needed on Naboo as his clone troops are occupying it, is massing just outside Naboo's system. It looks to be a certainty that Alderaan will be the next stop, and from there, Coruscant."

"Has this man, this 'mouth of the Dhro'... has he approached any of the Federation heads, or has he spoken before the Consortium?" The Empress was almost preternaturally still.

"Yes, he has spoken at least once before the Consortium itself. As for approaching the other Federations in private, I believe he has; at least our intelligence points that way. None of the Consortium's representatives have spoken of it, though."

"Do you think they will stand firm against him, or throw in with him?"

He sighed and hung his head; he'd been dreading the question. "Officially, they have all claimed they will resist. They won't." He glanced at her and added, "It is my belief that as soon as the mouth of the Dhro shows on Coruscant, they will capitulate. That's just my opinion, Exalted Majesty, but I stand by it."

"Understood." She still hadn't moved, sitting as still as the tree they faced. "Your opinions carry significant weight, Master Jinn, both on Selonia and here." She swallowed hard and took a deep breath, bringing herself under control. "What do you know about this man, the Dhro's herald?"

"Not much, unfortunately, though I have my..." he looked down for a moment, "...still rather nebulous suspicions. He's a tall man, with white hair and a distinguished bearing. He is always the envoy, the stormcrow. Where he leads, the Dhro's forces follow soon after." Qui-Gon sat back up and lifted his chin to the sky, sighing deeply. "I expect he'll be here within two to three months."

"So soon?" 

Qui-Gon couldn't reply to that softly-worded plaint, and didn't try.

After a few moments, he began to speak again, hoping to ease her fear, to shore her resolve. "We've taken the right steps, Exalted Majesty. You have extended the hand of peace to us, and the Jedi... we will fight alongside you to preserve our system." He hoped. No, they would, he thought grimly, they would if he had to threaten, if he had to blackmail them into it. Finally, he turned and looked directly at her. She was very pale, but in her deep blue eyes he saw a firm determination. He nodded, taking the chance he knew he must. "The Force tells us this is the right course, Majesty. When the Dhro comes, he will find he has more of a fight here than he bargained for, than he is ready for."

"The Force." She smiled ruefully. "You know, we could have you burned at the stake for that pronouncement."

"I place my life in your hands, Exalted Majesty." He did not smile as he said that, but looked at her seriously. "This posting of mine was foreseen. I knew it would happen, and most of our Council knew it would happen. The Force wants us to stand together against the Dhro, Majesty. One way or another, he _will_ stop here."

She blinked, and Qui-Gon was pleased to see hope fill her eyes. "You may be right, Master Jinn." She turned and gazed at nothing, her brow furrowing. "There is much that needs to be changed here, starting, perhaps, with the Force. Make no mistake; though officially, it is a banned 'religion', the royal house of Wan knows it well."

"I can feel it in you and in all your children, especially Obion and Anikin. You said the other day that Anikin has been waking with nightmares..."

"Yes." She gave him a sharp glance. "A gift from the Force?"

"I would have to say yes, though there could be other reasons."

She fell silent, obviously thinking, and Qui-Gon gave her silence to do so. After a long moment, she finally murmured, "We will need all the allies we can logically use against the Dhro. We should send word to the Organa family, get at least their children here now, before their world falls completely under siege. And you..." She turned back to him, her face set. "Over the last dozen years, we have been quietly repealing the laws regarding the Force -- they were antiquated. There is much about Sith law that is antiquated." She sighed again. "But there are many who still do not trust it, who still speak of it in hushed tones, looking over their shoulders. Do not presume to mention it away from the royal family -- and Maul. We must go slowly."

"We may not have the time to go slowly," Qui-Gon warned her, and she nodded.

"This is true. Nevertheless, to go quickly may invite civil war, and that is something we definitely cannot afford." She raised an eyebrow. "Take special care not to mention this anywhere that might get back to our First Minister. He needs no more ammunition against you, Master Jinn."

It was Qui-Gon's turn to shove his feelings aside, for he was surprised to find a lingering anger over Palpatine's words the evening before, anger over how Obion had stood up for the man. "I must thank you for yesterday, for allowing me to refute his allegations."

"Master Jinn, you are a diplomat. You must understand political expediency." Her voice was firm and yet carried tacit apology. "We do not like Minister Palpatine, but he cannot be removed from his place without losing the power and connections of his family to the throne and scepter. And we both know we can ill-afford to lose any allies."

Qui-Gon smiled. "I do understand, Exalted Majesty. And I apologize for my testiness with him. Soon, I believe, I will be able to better explain the situation to you." She frowned slightly, but he gave her no chance to contemplate it further. "I have given copies of the datacrystals from the Temple to Maul. He will need them, since quite a bit of it deals with hard data on the strength of the Dhro's forces."

"Thank you." Yes, she definitely had suspicions behind her mild gaze. He should not and would not underestimate her; like her children, her Force acuity was astounding and was undoubtedly a help to her in many ways she could not, or would not, acknowledge. "We will not enquire too deeply in the methods used to get this information -- at least not yet -- only thank you for its timeliness."

She opened her mouth to say more but was interrupted by a soft chime. She sighed and shook her head. "There is so much to do and so little time to do it in. Is there anything else you need to ask of or tell us?"

He smiled, stood and offered his hand to help her up. "Only that I would like a copy of Anikin's schooling schedule. It would help if I knew when he was hiding from his lessons so I could make sure he did not."

She chuckled. "Ani... what a wonderful son he is. Obi used to be just like Ani, once, playful, mischievous... staying up all night to work on something and impossible to rouse the next day. Now... Now he would follow the First Minister against his mother's wishes." She sighed again, and her face, which had briefly lost the weight of care, fell under it again. He felt the spike in the Force that was her concern, and remembered Obion's strange, tainted Force aura. "I fear for my children, Master Jinn," she whispered. "As a mother... I ask you, please look out for them."

"With all my heart," Qui-Gon replied, almost surprised at the depth of his sincerity. He sharply reminded himself that he wasn't here to look after children, but to work on a treaty. Regardless, there was nothing he could say more, because platitudes would be just that -- empty and meaningless. The troubles of the galaxy were descending upon Corellia, and nothing, not the Force, not all the blasters and all the lightsabers of the Sith and Jedi combined would change that.

He followed the Empress back into the palace and back to work.

* * *

Having Bellen arrange his day made Qui-Gon's life enormously easier. It might have been easier simply because most of the palace courtiers had met, talked to and seen him over the last two days. None of them were certain of his place in the Empress' court, how influential he would be, and as such, they felt no need to repeat the visit. The viewing.

Yet.

None of them ever came right out and _asked_ for anything. Their appointments were all merely greetings, pleasantries, tactful questions and other meaningless words. It was not something Qui-Gon was unfamiliar with, but it was tiring and he found himself releasing his boredom and frustrations to the Force on a frequent basis.

Qui-Gon found himself booked with a recurring appointment late each morning: language lessons for Anikin and Maisen. Anikin was thrilled at the prospect and showed it; Maisen was the opposite and felt no compunction to hide it. Qui-Gon had been expecting that, and had a strategy to defeat her stubborn dislike: turning their session into a game, where her aim was to come out ahead of her older brother. It worked well, and she learned quickly. It helped Qui-Gon as well, helping him improve his own mastery of the Sith language. Once, the Jedi and the Sith spoke the same language, much as they occupied the same planet. But after the rift between them, the Jedi decided to adopt Basic, the universal language of the galaxy, and push aside their ancestral tongue. The Jedi had, by now, almost forgotten the language the Empire clung stubbornly to.

His day moved as swiftly as the one before it, though less chaotically. Shortly after noon, he was meeting with Aliamon and Cliadle and deciding where to sit with them. Rather than using the Empress' garden, Cliadle suggested another interior garden, one that opened onto all the heirs' rooms. It was another lovely, sheltered space, and Qui-Gon's respect for the architect -- or architects, the palace had an air of a living, growing thing -- increased. He promised himself a time away from all his requirements to truly explore it, a building that seemed as labyrinthine and almost as large as the Jedi Temple on Selonia, but overall much happier.

The sun was shining brightly through the particle shield as the three of them found a comfortable, grassy patch in the garden. Qui-Gon explained the procedure to them as they sat.

"The idea of meditation is to let your mind go where it will. To free it from the puzzles and problems that have been bothering you, to allow it to examine things dispassionately and fully, without the interruption of trouble. The first thing you must do is to get comfortable." He smiled wryly at them. "Often, that's the hardest thing for someone learning the technique. I prefer resting back on my heels, like so." He easily took his favorite pose, smiling at the feel of the grass under his legs, the breeze that played in the neckline of his tunic, and the sun on his face. "Whichever pose you take, make sure you're comfortable with it. Nothing keeps one from achieving a proper meditative state like one's legs falling asleep."

Both Cliadle and Aliamon giggled, giving each other mischievous glances. 

Qui-Gon watched as they settled themselves: Cliadle in a half-lotus and Aliamon with her legs drawn up and her arms wrapped around them. Both girls were comfortably dressed as well, in worn trousers and overlarge tunics, stained with age and memory. Cliadle wore her thick, dark hair in a neat tail, but Aliamon's beautiful ginger hair was braided from the top of her head. Neither of them wore cosmetics and from that and the way they were dressed, they could have been any two pretty girls from a middle or upper-class family.

The lesson went well. Cliadle was able to achieve a quiet mind almost at once, which impressed Qui-Gon. Aliamon was more difficult. She would come close, then her mind would skitter off, dancing from subject to subject. It felt to Qui-Gon almost as if she were being blocked, as if she were being prevented from seeking the peace she strived for.

At the end of an hour, she was near tears from frustration and disappointment. Cliadle was apparently drawn out of her meditations by the sadness flowing from her sister, and Qui-Gon watched with approval as she scooted over to embrace her half-sibling. "It's all right, Ali," Cliadle murmured, hugging her tightly.

"You've come so very close, your Grace." Qui-Gon pitched his voice low and soothing, hoping to ease the child's disappointment. He touched her hand, trying to calm her aura with his touch "Sometimes it takes a while for the comfort to grow within you. I've often seen initiates struggle for days, or weeks, trying to find that peace. It will come to you."

After a surreptitious sniff and a backhanded swipe at her eyes, she looked up at Qui-Gon. "May we try tomorrow? Please?"

"Of course we can," Qui-Gon replied, smiling. "There's a technique used among the Jedi: a shared meditation. Sometimes, when meditation won't come for whatever reason, or if the person is in a particularly bad way, another person can guide them into the peace they seek. We could try that with you, if you're still unsuccessful tomorrow."

That cheered her, and both girls rose as he did. They led the way back, but Cliadle stopped, looking diagonally across the garden. Qui-Gon followed her gaze and saw a figure with crossed arms, leaning against the jamb of a different door. 

"Obi?" Cliadle said with a frown. "How long have you been there?"

"Not long," Obion replied. Though he looked the picture of nonchalance, Qui-Gon felt his emotional turmoil. "What were you doing?"

"Master Jinn is teaching us to meditate," Cliadle replied. Aliamon nodded to her brother and went inside. Qui-Gon came abreast of Cliadle and bowed to the heir, who completely and coldly ignored him.

"To meditate?" He scowled at her. "That's like Force use, Cli. You know you're..."

"Oh, hush." She made a face at her brother. "I'll have you know meditation has nothing to do with Force use. Well, usually, anyhow. Great ancestors, Obion, you know that. As if Mother would allow us to learn that stuff."

"Then why?"

"Obi..." Cliadle's voice was just shy of a whine, and she looked over her shoulder to make sure her sister was gone before lowering her volume. "You know she's been on edge -- Ani isn't the only one waking with nightmares. And that idiot Chun just keeps--"

"I thought I told him to stay away from her," Obion all but snarled the words, causing Qui-Gon to frown and Cliadle to put her hands on her hips.

"Oh, like that would work. Like it worked when Po-- Maulie told old Pulpy to stay away from _you_. Has he? Well?"

"No." Obion muttered the denial, but Qui-Gon could see his hands were tight fists. "But that's different."

"How is it different? That dried up old lecher wants just one thing from you, Obi, the same thing Bruck wants from Ali. I don't see how it's different."

"Stop it. I won't have you saying such foul things about him. He's... he's..." 

Cliadle made a frustrated noise. "Oh, never mind. The two of you are like conjoined twins sometimes. And more stubborn than Mai and Ani combined." With a disdainful sniff, she turned and all but flounced back to her suite of rooms. 

Qui-Gon stood still and observed as Obion watch his sister walk away. The heir's face was an interesting study as he got himself under control. Qui-Gon saw sadness and pain chase themselves across the young man's expression before resignation took up residence. "My apologies, Master Jinn," he said finally, after a hard swallow. He wouldn't look at Qui-Gon, but instead studied the ground before his feet.

"Nothing to be sorry for, Highness." Qui-Gon wished he could help draw the pain he saw away, but it was a difficult thing to do with Obion. First, he didn't know the heir as well as he knew the others, and second, Obion was different, much different from his sister and half-siblings. The others had already graced Qui-Gon with their affection and apparently felt at ease enough around him to not censor themselves, and Qui-Gon felt pleased and honored for such ease. With Obion, though, Qui-Gon suspected the weight of the throne was sitting heavily upon him, especially now, with the Dhro looming large on the horizon. It couldn't have been helping to have Palpatine trying to control his thoughts, either.. "You're welcome to join us at any time. We'll be out here at about the same time every day, our schedules accommodating."

Still not looking up, Obion nodded. "I thank you for the offer." Wordlessly, Obion turned and walked back inside.

Qui-Gon frowned at nothing for several moments before following Cliadle back inside.

* * *

Now that he understood the situation -- a bit better, but not thoroughly -- Qui-Gon offered to be Aliamon's escort to dinner that evening and resolved he'd at least offer to escort her every evening. He also intended to find out who was in charge of setting the places, and turned to the Seneschal for that information. He managed to get the man to stop by before dinner that evening, after Bellen had left him for the day.

Sending Terrell out with a note to Aliamon about dinner, Qui-Gon asked Matrin to sit. "How are you settling, Master Jinn?" he asked. "I hope Terrell and Bellen are pleasing you with their service."

"Very much so, Jay," Qui-Gon said, trying to signify they were talking without formality, "and I thank you for your help in sending them my way. I need, however, to ask you a few questions, and wanted to do so in private."

"Of course, Qui-Gon," Matrin replied, leaning forward with a frown.

"The young man, Bruck Chun... he seems to be harassing Aliamon. For the last two nights at dinner, I found her place card next to his, even though I had escorted her to dinner and she wanted nothing do to with him. Do you know the reasoning behind this?"

"Chun, hmmm?" Matrin's face was bland, but Qui-Gon caught a flicker of emotion deep in his eyes. "Chun is the First Minister's ward. He's a troublemaker, and I say that in all confidence." He raised an eyebrow at Qui-Gon, who nodded slowly, narrowing his eyes. "I wasn't aware his pursuit had descended to that level, however."

"Could he be bribing someone on your staff to seat him with Aliamon?" 

"If he is, then it will stop tonight." Matrin's eyes were hard. "I'll make some inquiries. And I thank you for bringing this to my attention."

Waving his hand, Qui-Gon brushed his thanks aside. "It's nothing. I would do far more for any of the children. They're quite an extraordinary family."

Matrin smiled. "They are, aren't they? Though it is none of my business, I firmly believe her Exalted Majesty is doing a wonderful job with them. Well, all of them except, perhaps, Maisen." Matrin shook his head and chuckled ruefully. "There isn't a day goes by without someone threatening to throttle that little beast."

Qui-Gon chuckled with him. "She'll come around. Eventually."

Terrell picked that moment to return, and Qui-Gon stood as Matrin did. "Thank you, Master Jinn, for your confidences. I'll see to the situation immediately."

"I leave it in your capable hands, Seneschal." Terrell had a funny expression on his face as he watched the two older men bow to each other. He followed Matrin out the door with his eyes, then turned back to Qui-Gon. "Do you have something for me, Terrell?" Qui-Gon asked mildly.

"Uh... oh, yes." Terrell was glancing from the door to Qui-Gon and back, but finally shook himself and spoke. "Her Grace said she would love to be escorted by you, but you must also escort her Grace the Third. If you can, I mean. That's what she said."

Terrell seemed very rattled, and Qui-Gon frowned. "That would be fine by me, Terrell. Let me go get cleaned up for dinner, and you can escort me to their quarters."

"Yes sir."

Terrell continued to be very quiet as he escorted Qui-Gon to the girls' suite of rooms, and from there to the dining room. Qui-Gon felt very rakish with two such lovely young ladies, one on each arm, and had to laugh at himself for feeling such. He thought Terrell's problem might be his feelings for Aliamon, though he was good about hiding them. Qui-Gon idly wondered about the whole 'consort' business, and whether it would be possible for Terrell to some day express his feelings for Aliamon.

The seating arrangement this dinner had Qui-Gon back to the left of the Empress and the Heir, had the two girls he'd escorted next to him, and Bruck Chun halfway down the table on the other side. Anikin and Maisen were once again absent, though it was probably because dinner wasn't formal.

Qui-Gon did his best to be a good guest at the table, engaging the girls and Obion in idle talk, or at least trying to. The Empress asked him how the language and meditation lessons had fared, and he found himself giving a somewhat edited version of both to her, trying and succeeding to get a smile from her.

Obion was very quiet during dinner. He once again pushed his food around on his plate, eating only a small portion. He would look up suddenly and blink -- at his mother, at Qui-Gon, at the First Minister -- then go back to not eating. Palpatine kept addressing some of his comments to the heir, who would answer confusedly, if at all.

Aside from talking to Obion or the Empress, Palpatine ignored everyone else at the table, especially Qui-Gon, which suited him fine. His dislike of the man grew every time Qui-Gon had the misfortune to see him. The Empress too seemed less and less happy with the man.

Dinner flowed by smoothly, and before he realized it, dessert was before him. The Empress leaned over to the heir and said something to him that made him frown, then they both rose. As she passed Qui-Gon's chair, she leaned down. "Master Jinn, you'll be expected at breakfast tomorrow. Your page has been notified." 

Qui-Gon blinked. "Majesty?" But she was already halfway to the door. 

* * *


	3. Chapter 3

**CHAPTER THREE**

The family breakfasts the Empress scheduled were held very early. That didn't bother Qui-Gon, as he had always been an early riser; he was already up and had briefly exercised by the time Terrell came to take him to the Empress' private quarters. The Seneschal let him into the room, smiling a greeting. The Empress was sitting in a comfortable-looking chair, dressed in an elaborate dressing gown and reading from a hand-held reader. She looked up and smiled as well. 

Qui-Gon bowed. "Good morning, Exalted Majesty."

"Master Jinn. Do sit down, please. Would you care for some tea?" There was an assortment of beverages on a low table next to her chair, and Qui-Gon nodded. He smelled the blend he had become addicted to, and wondered if she knew how much he'd come to like it.

There was a table to the side of the room which held place settings and food, kept hot with electric warmers. As Qui-Gon settled on a chair, a different door opened to admit Anikin.

He was dressed but still looked rosy and flustered from sleep. Without even a glance at Qui-Gon, who took a seat near the Empress, he simply clambered into his mother's lap and tucked his head under her chin. "'Morning, Mam," he mumbled.

Putting aside her reader, she wrapped her arms around him in a strong hug. "Good morning, Ani my love," she murmured into his hair. "We have a visitor this morning, Second Son."

After a moment, Anikin looked up and spied Qui-Gon. "Master Jinn!" His mother let him go and he repeated his movements with Qui-Gon, unabashedly climbing into his lap and hugging him. At an age when most boys would be shy about tactile expression, Anikin seemed to be a physical child, craving touch in the form of frequent hugs and hand-holding. Qui-Gon wondered if it were due to his enormous Force potential.

Regardless, Qui-Gon felt honored to be treated so intimately, and hugged the boy back. He was truly fond of Anikin, and was pleased the boy counted him as a friend. "Good morning, Ani. Did you sleep well?"

Anikin sighed before answering. "Um, no... well, kinda." Since Anikin showed no signs of wanting to leave his lap, Qui-Gon arranged them more comfortably.

"Did you have another dream, Ani?" the Empress asked. Her face was pinched with worry. Matrin came back into the room as she spoke and glanced at her with a frown.

"Yeah," Anikin replied softly. "It wasn't so bad, though, Mam. Really."

Qui-Gon smoothed the fine, golden hair from Anikin's forehead. "Perhaps you can tell me about it later, Ani. Sometimes that helps."

"Do you get bad dreams too, Master Qui-Gon?" There were dark circles around Anikin's blue eyes and Qui-Gon's concern for the boy increased.

"Sometimes," Qui-Gon allowed. "And it usually helps me to talk about them."

"All right, then." Glad that seemed to be settled, Anikin slid to the floor and crossed to the table, where Matrin began serving him. 

Aliamon and Maisen were the next ones in the room, both fully dressed, though Maisen's clothing looked rumpled in contrast to Aliamon's, which was perfect. Maisen was already whining, and her sister was frowning at her. "It's not fair, and I don't want it." Matrin caught Qui-Gon's eye and winked. 

"Mother, _please_ do something with her," Aliamon said, bending to kiss her mother's cheek in greeting. Maisen simply climbed onto her mother's lap, much as Anikin had, though her face was sour. "Oh! Good morning, Master Jinn," Aliamon added, noticing Qui-Gon.

"Good morning, your Grace," Qui-Gon replied, smiling. 

After a brief hesitation, Aliamon crossed the room, bent and swiftly kissed Qui-Gon's cheek. "Thank you for yesterday," she murmured as she straightened.

"Anything to help, my dear," he replied, touched. He glanced at the Empress and was relieved to see approval -- and relief? -- in her gaze. Somehow or other, the Empress' family was working its way under his skin, no matter how hard Qui-Gon tried to avoid it.

Being brutally honest with himself, he realized he wasn't trying very hard to avoid it, if at all. He couldn't decide yet if it was a good thing or a bad thing, and, with a mental snort for his foolishness, he put the question aside completely.

Maisen was still complaining about something, until the Empress finally put her hand over the child's mouth. "Mai. We have a guest at breakfast. Please behave yourself or you can eat in your room. And as the language lessons are not going away, it does you no good at all to whine. I would appreciate it if you would act your age." Qui-Gon was amused to watch as Maisen opened her mouth to say something -- something he would have bet was another whine -- only to freeze as her mother raised a finger. "Now, Maisen."

Dropping her head to her chest, heaving a great sigh and appearing to be the very image of put-upon dejection, Maisen allowed herself to be put back on her feet and directed to the table. Matrin didn't even ask her what she wanted to eat; her plate was already full and waiting for her.

"Master Jinn, may I fix you a plate?" Matrin asked quietly.

"I'll help myself once the children are through, Seneschal. Thank you." Qui-Gon poured himself more tea, then raised his eyebrow at the Empress, still holding the teapot. Her mostly empty cup was sitting at her elbow.

"Thank you, yes, Master Jinn," she said, once more picking up the reader as he poured for her. "The crystals you copied for us are a wealth of information. Some day we'll have to have a long talk about how the Jedi manage to get such detail."

"As you wish, Exalted Majesty," Qui-Gon replied as blandly as he could, but he knew his eyes were dancing.

The door opened before she could speak again, and Maul strode in. Anikin and Aliamon looked up and greeted him, though he just nodded to them on his way to the Empress and once again totally ignored Matrin. He bent to speak quietly to the Empress. "He's not in his room." Her eyes closed and she slumped in her seat. After a moment, Maul added, "Should I search?"

After a long moment, she shook her head. Looking up at Maul, she murmured, "No, give him some more time."

Maul nodded, then looked across at Qui-Gon. "Good morning, Qui-Gon," he said. "Thank you for the datacrystals."

"You're welcome." Qui-Gon swallowed hard. 'He' was obviously Obion, and though Qui-Gon felt no specific nudge from the Force, the very fact they were worried had him worried as well, and he gave himself a firm mental slap. The Heir was an adult. He could care for himself. And even if he couldn't, he had others to help. There was nothing for Qui-Gon to do about it.

Anikin rose from the breakfast he was demolishing and hugged Maul, giving him an odd-looking brown fruit. "Thank you, Ani," Maul said, gravely accepting the gift. "I still think you'd like them if you tried them."

"They look like falumpaset droppings," Anikin said with a shrug, and Aliamon choked on a laugh.

"Ani," his mother said warningly, but Ani just grinned at her over his shoulder.

The door opened again, this time admitting Cliadle. She was dressed in a warm robe and slippers, and looked rumpled and sleepy. "Morning, Mam; sorry, I overslept." She kissed her mother then turned and wrapped her arms around Maul. "Morning, Poppa."

"Good morning, da'schal." Maul hugged Cliadle back tightly. For a moment, his strange face became gentle and loving, and Qui-Gon, with a flash of insight, understood how he had come to sire a child with the Empress of the Sith. There was obviously more to Maul than what could be seen on the surface, and his tenderness with his daughter spoke volumes towards his feelings. "There is a visitor for breakfast," he murmured into Cliadle's ear, and she turned, blushing when she saw Qui-Gon.

"Oh! Master Jinn. I'm sorry," she said, flustered.

"You stayed up too late reading again, didn't you, Cli?" her mother asked, diverting her.

"Sorry, Mam," she replied, not looking at all contrite. 

Cliadle joined her siblings at the table, and Matrin served her, after adding to Anikin's plate. "You can go on now, Jay, I know you have appointments," the Empress said. "We can handle it from here."

"Of course, Majesty." He bowed to the room and departed. 

Realizing he was hungry, Qui-Gon stood and walked to the table. There was still plenty of food left, and he helped himself to a plate, though he didn't take nearly as much as Anikin had. "Majesty, may I serve you?" he asked, as he put his plate down.

"Thank you, no, Master Jinn." She smiled at him over the top of her reader, but it was a strained smile, and her gaze kept darting to the door. Maul pulled a chair near her, sat, and began murmuring.

Qui-Gon was just finishing his small meal when the door opened again, this time to finally admit Obion. He looked dazed and disheveled and was wearing the same clothing as he had the evening before, at dinner. The Empress' face looked stricken for a moment before she composed herself. "You're late, Obi," she said softly.

"S-sorry, Mam. M'sorry." Obion blinked and shook his head sharply, weaving drunkenly. 

Before Qui-Gon could move, Maul did, and was at Obion's elbow, steadying him. "Are you all right?" Maul asked.

Obion took a deep breath and nodded. "I... I think I just need to eat," he mumbled. 

Qui-Gon hastily grabbed the last clean plate and filled it with food even as Maul directed the young man to a chair. Anikin rose and went back to his mother's lap, taking and giving comfort, clearly upset with his brother's behavior and his mother's reaction to it. Qui-Gon met Maul's eyes over Obion's head -- the heir absolutely reeked of sex, but he didn't have a 'well-laid' look about him, and he certainly didn't look like a man who had spent an enjoyable evening.

Aliamon fetched some juice for her brother, then traded glances with her sister. Maisen was completely oblivious to the tension in the room, eating her food with a frown on her face.

A slight wince when he sat coupled with a different aroma -- one Qui-Gon knew well, not only from his own experimentation days, but his time in the field -- made Qui-Gon draw in a sharp breath. Obion drained the juice his sister provided and started in on the plate of food, eating mechanically, with no obvious pleasure in the act.

Obion's pained expression decided his internal question of whether to speak. Sitting next to the heir, Qui-Gon murmured, "Highness... do you need a physician?"

Maul's eyes widened. Concern and anger flowed off him, almost swamping the room. Obion paused in his eating and seemed to hunch in on himself, shaking. "That would perhaps be a good idea," he replied, sotto voce. "But please, don't tell Mother."

"She needs to know, Obion," Maul said, his voice very nearly a low growl.

"Please, Maul." Obion glanced up at Maul and whatever was in his eyes convinced the Empress' bodyguard, for he nodded shortly.

"Finish eating. I'll have Dr. Pfelling meet you in your room in a quarter hour." Maul looked across to Qui-Gon. "Can you make sure he gets there?"

"I will," Qui-Gon replied, before rising with Obion's glass and walking across the room to refill it. Obion would need fluids, if Qui-Gon's suspicions were correct.

The Empress, Anikin still on her lap, looked at Qui-Gon as he refilled the glass. Her heart was in her eyes and Qui-Gon felt a burst of sympathy. "Is he all right?" she asked.

"He will be," Qui-Gon said firmly, before reaching out to ruffle Anikin's hair. He returned to his seat next to Obion, putting the full glass on the table. Maul and Obion had been muttering to each other, but when Qui-Gon returned, Maul nodded shortly and left the room. He spared the Empress one long, enigmatic look before the door closed behind him.

Obion looked marginally better for eating and drinking -- he immediately drained the glass of juice Qui-Gon fetched -- but his face was still too pale. With an obvious effort, he slowly and efficiently cleared everything on his plate. Qui-Gon heard the Empress talking to the other children, telling them about her plans for the day and postponing their update to her on their lessons. Anikin's softly spoken worries about Obion were soothed gently.

Finished, Obion struggled to push his chair back and stand, and Qui-Gon quickly rose to help him. The Empress' voice rose to reach Qui-Gon's ears. "Please come to the garden when you're... afterwards, Master Jinn." 

"I will, Majesty." Trying to look as though he were not propping Obion up, Qui-Gon helped him out of the room and down the corridor. He had a fair idea where Obion's rooms were, after being in Cliadle's and Aliamon's, but he let Obion direct them and set the pace: a slow walk. The smell of blood grew stronger and Obion's face grew paler and more drawn with every step.

He kept giving Qui-Gon looks, strange looks, as though he expected Qui-Gon to say or do something different. But by the time they reached his rooms, Obion was so far gone, so close to collapse, he was even leaning on Qui-Gon, allowing him to help.

They made it to Obion's rooms, closing the door behind them, before the heir crumpled. Expecting it, Qui-Gon caught him and lifted him into his arms gently, using the Force to augment his strength: Obion was lean but well-muscled, and weighed more than he looked. The door to the bedchamber was open and it was obvious the bed hadn't been slept in. Qui-Gon put the young man down on it, gently straightening his limbs. Obion opened his eyes with a gasp. 

"It's all right," Qui-Gon said softly, carefully perching on the bed next to him. "Who did this to you, Highness?"

Obion shook his head roughly, though his eyes were haunted. "It's not... I need... Mother..."

"It's all right, she's not here, and Maul has called the physician. I'll wait with you until he gets here; I'm not leaving you alone." Sweat began to bead on Obion's forehead and Qui-Gon smoothed it away. "It'll be all right. I promise," Qui-Gon added with a small, wry smile.

His attempt at a mild jibe was ignored, and Obion tossed his head from side to side, muttering. "He said it would hurt, the first time, he said it would hurt but this..."

Qui-Gon shoved his anger back, with effort. "It shouldn't hurt at all, it doesn't have to hurt -- ever. He lied to you, Highness." And when Qui-Gon found out who 'he' was, 'he' would be receiving a lesson in pain that 'he' hadn't bargained for.

That is, if there was anything left for Qui-Gon after Maul was through with whoever it was. 

Looking near tears, Obion turned his head away. "I didn't want this... not this... didn't want this..." 

He looked as though he was going into shock, and Qui-Gon pulled a blanket from the foot of the bed up, to keep Obion warm. He saw the 'fresher through another door, and hurried in to get a warm, damp cloth. He sat next to Obion, soothing him, mopping the sweat on his forehead with the cloth, until the door opened to admit Maul and a short, portly man with a wild fringe of short hair around his otherwise bald head.

"Master Jinn, this is Dr. Pfelling. How is he?" Maul sounded brusque and worried at once.

"He's going into shock, I think," Qui-Gon said softly, giving up his place for the doctor whom he greeted with a nod. "I can smell blood, but I haven't checked."

The doctor acknowledged him with a grunt and immediately sat next to Obion, speaking gently to him. Qui-Gon moved back, next to Maul, but couldn't take his eyes off Obion. 

"He'll be fine now," Maul said softly. "Pfelling has been the court physician since before Obion was born."

Nodding, Qui-Gon watched as the man carefully turned Obion over, then gasped as he saw the stain on the seat of the heir's pants, obvious once his long tunic was lifted. "Whoever did this to him..." Qui-Gon snarled, surprising himself with the rage he felt. No, he didn't know Obion as well as the other children, but that hardly mattered. With effort, he relaxed his hands and released his fury to the Force.

"I believe it looks worse than it is," the doctor said quietly. "I'll need to strip him and do a thorough exam, but in my experience, rectal tears often behave like scalp wounds -- they can bleed heavily, but are seldom dangerous if tended to properly." He carefully rolled Obion back on the bed and turned towards Maul. "I'm more concerned about the shock than I am about the blood loss. I should notify Adi that..."

"No," Maul interrupted softly. "Obion has said he doesn't want us to tell her." Maul glanced at Qui-Gon. "Considering Master Jinn is going directly from here to her garden, though, she will have information that neither of us has given to her."

Qui-Gon nodded reluctantly. "Yes, I can go to her now." He looked from the doctor to Maul. "Please, let me know how he's doing?"

"Of course," Maul said. He squeezed Qui-Gon's shoulder briefly before moving with the doctor to help begin stripping Obion for an examination. 

* * *

Qui-Gon knew the way well enough that he didn't require Terrell, and was, in fact, grateful for his absence. He was still angry at whoever would have had the temerity to damage Obion so, and needed to calm himself. He didn't need anyone around him, asking questions or voicing concerns, to exacerbate his emotional situation.

The door to the garden was watched by a young man he didn't recognize, dressed in the livery of the Empress. He nodded as he watched Qui-Gon approach.

"Master Jinn? I'm Captain Sarin. Maul told me to expect you, sir. Go right in." 

Nodding to the young man, Qui-Gon allowed him to open the door and close it behind him. Bemused, Qui-Gon wondered how many of the Empress' guard was hand-chosen by Maul specifically, though was willing to bet the answer was 'all of them.'

Regulating his breathing, Qui-Gon closed his eyes for a moment and centered himself, trying to release what was left of his anger before meeting with the Empress. She was also a concerned mother, he reminded himself, one who obviously cared a great deal for her children. She would need his calm strength, of that he was certain.

She was sitting at the heart of the garden again, but her head was drooping and he could feel her anguish. He sat next to her without a word, and, greatly daring, took her hand. She allowed the familiarity, but didn't look up as she spoke in hushed words. 

"Obion lost his virginity at seventeen... one of my ladies, actually. As the Empress, I must know such things, but as a mother..." she trailed off, and Qui-Gon nodded. He could imagine the discomfort of having to learn about your son's love life. "He's been attracted to both men and women, but has been more shy, less assertive, around men."

Qui-Gon stayed mute, letting her talk. His rage over Obion's injuries was slowly being supplanted by concern and respect, not to mention surprise she would let him become such a confidant. He resolved to keep earning such trust where he could.

"He's changed, Master Jinn. These past few months, he's changed. He's quieter, less talkative, and he argues with me all the time. I thought it was due to our concern about the Dhro, but now..."

"He's going to be fine, Majesty." Qui-Gon tried to imbue his tone with as much sincerity as he could. "The doctor and Maul are with him now, and he's young, strong. His injuries aren't as severe as they looked. He'll be fine." And when I find out who did this to him... Qui-Gon kept those words inside, but she must have sensed them.

Sitting straighter, the Empress turned to face him. He was unsurprised to see tears in her eyes, though he suspected she'd never let them fall. "You have been here for what, less than a week, Master Jinn, and yet I have already come to rely upon you. My children adore you and speak highly of you, yet they barely know you. I barely know you, but here I am, less than the Empress, more than a mother, asking you to hold my son's life in your hands." She turned away, swallowing hard, but did not remove her hand from his. "I am the Empress of the Sith, but at this moment, I am merely a mother, frightened for her eldest son."

Taking a deep breath, Qui-Gon released it slowly, calming himself. "I will do everything within my power to live up to the trust you place in me, Majesty. I swear it on my life."

They sat still for a long moment, watching the birds, letting the rising sun warm their backs. When she spoke again, her words were surer, stronger: she was once more the Empress. "Please see to it that your schedule is changed today, Master Jinn. Your presence is requested at the staff meeting. In fact, you will probably be required from this day forward. We do need to work on the treaty between our peoples, although that has been superceded of late with the present crisis." She turned and gave him a sad, half-smile. "Unfortunately, the First Minister will be there as well, but we need your input on the Dhro and his advances."

Qui-Gon nodded. "I will tell Bellen as soon as I return to my rooms. Will I need to re-schedule the meditation sessions I have planned for today?"

The Empress smiled, a small but genuine thing and Qui-Gon was glad to see it. "We would not presume, Master Jinn. Aliamon and Cliadle have become exceedingly fond of you, as I pointed out earlier." She made a sound, something like an amused snort. "Actually, you should be on the alert for overtures of romance in that department, though I daresay any made wouldn't be serious."

Alarmed, Qui-Gon blinked. "Majesty?" he said, and she appeared to find his discomfiture humorous -- or perhaps it was merely her anxiety.

"You appear to be one of those men who is completely unaware of his own magnetism, Master Jinn." Qui-Gon supposed his face showed his shock, which was why she laughed quietly. "Were I ten years younger, I confess I might have been interested in giving my daughters a contest for you." She patted his hand, which she still held. "Don't worry. If it hasn't been clear enough, let me state it baldly. I trust you. As the Empress, as a woman--" she sighed, and her face lost some of its playfulness -- "and as a mother. My intuition tells me the hope you have given me will be our salvation, and I cannot ever repay that."

Trying hard to regain his equilibrium, Qui-Gon found himself floundering -- a state wholly unusual for him. "I..." He looked at the Empress and took little real comfort from her smiling gaze. "I am... flattered, very flattered," he finally managed to say. "Since we are being honest, however, I must add... your daughters have no hope, actually. I'm afraid even if they weren't far too young for me, my tastes run towards... a different... ah... type... altogether."

She nodded, raising one eyebrow as if what he had said confirmed something for her. "I see. I shall have to pass that along, in order to protect your virtue, Master Jinn."

She was winning the conversation he hadn't even realized was a competition, and Qui-Gon shook his head in surprise. He knew when he was beaten, and so conceded the field gracefully. "I told Maul that 'may you live in interesting times' is an old Jedi curse," he said. "Something tells me I've been cursed."

That made her laugh outright, and helped dispel the last of the tension between them. "I must go in," she said, giving the hand she still held a squeeze. "I would like to check on my son before I start my day formally." He stood and she allowed him to help her to her feet. "Please join us for breakfast tomorrow, Master Jinn. Hopefully, you'll see a more normal family." To his increasing surprise, she leaned up and kissed his cheek. "The mother is eternally grateful for your care of her son, Master Jinn," she murmured.

* * *

The morning passed in a haze of language lessons, correspondence to and from the Temple, work on the treaty, notes from Maul and the Empress, and finally, meditation lessons. After his morning, he actually felt relieved to be outside with the girls, since he knew it would do him well to be at his calm center when he attended the Empress' staff meeting.

Now that their mother had alerted him, he could see the seeds of infatuation in both of them. He was lucky, however; they were both levelheaded girls who didn't seem serious about any of it. At any rate, they were both subdued from the morning events, and giggling was kept to a minimum.

As it had been the day before, Cliadle was able to slip into a calm space almost immediately, but Aliamon had a harder time of it. She had tried to copy Qui-Gon's pose, on her knees and leaning back against her heels, but he could see by her face and feel by her aura that she was becoming more frustrated as the moments passed.

Finally, he reached out and took her hands, which she had balled into fists. "Calmly, Ali," he said quietly, encouraging her hands to relax open. "You're trying too hard. Don't seek it as if it were running from you. Stop, turn, and look -- it's closer than you think."

"I... I don't know..."

"Start with relaxation." It had been many long years since Qui-Gon Jinn had trained a padawan, but he remembered the technique for guided meditation. He talked her through each muscle group in her body, starting with her toes and working up to her head, encouraging her to feel them, tense and release them, and move on. 

It was a tedious process, but one he knew worked. He followed along with her, describing his relief in a relaxing monotone as he encouraged her to breathe in his pattern... deeply, rhythmically, in through the nose and out through the mouth. Her eyelids fluttered shut and he could feel her stillness, like a deep blue pool, ready to welcome her.

A few moments later, she took one last deep breath and her eyes opened. In her gaze was a kind of joyful wonder that made Qui-Gon smile in pleasure. "I did it," she whispered, still caught in her calm center.

Cliadle had emerged from her meditations well before Aliamon had calmed, but had waited patiently, not willing to break the spell Qui-Gon was weaving. When her sister opened her eyes and spoke, Cliadle embraced her, laughing and cheering her accomplishment.

"It's different... different than I thought it would be," Aliamon said, after they had all calmed down. "I think that's where I went wrong -- I kept thinking it was something I had to search for, and it was there all the time."

"That's true of many things, your Grace," Qui-Gon replied. He stood and gave a hand to each girl. "When I was young, many, many..." he sighed theatrically, "many years ago..." Cliadle giggled and he tweaked her nose gently, "the only thing I wanted to be was a Jedi. I thought I had to work tirelessly, day in and day out, learning and practicing, studying and meditating. I was such a solemn and busy person I didn't have time to look beyond the end of my boots. Then one day, a wise person took me aside, and told me something which has always stayed with me." The girls paused and turned to look at him, caught up in his story. "She told me how ridiculous I looked, chasing after being a Jedi as if it were a race and I the only participant, and if I kept it up, I'd never make it." He shook his head, remembering the irascible woman who ran the Temple library. "I was devastated. I thought she meant I couldn't become a Jedi. Then she hit me on the side of my head and told me I already _was_ a Jedi." 

Both girls blinked. "She _hit_ you?" Aliamon asked, looking almost affronted. 

"It wasn't unnecessary, I assure you. I was a hard-headed child, your Grace." He chuckled at their consternation and offered an arm to each. "Allow me to escort you back, ladies. I've been commanded to appear at your exalted mother's staff meeting, and while I'd prefer to stay out here with you, duty does call -- loudly."

Their path took them by Obion's door, which was closed. Qui-Gon frowned as he neared it -- he could just hear voices in full shout. Letting the girls go ahead of him, chatting about the lesson, he dawdled near the door, unashamedly listening.

"...WASN'T RAPE!" It was Obion's voice, bellowing.

"A lover wouldn't have treated you that way!" Maul's voice, and it sounded as though they'd been at it for some time. Obion's voice was hoarse.

"He didn't mean to hurt me, dammit! He loves me!"

"He doesn't give a duct-rat's ass about you, Obi, all he wants is the scepter! If he can't have your mother, you'll do fine!"

"Stop it! Stop it! I won't have you saying that, damn you!" Obion was beginning to sound frantic, beginning to sound... young. Young and vulnerable.

"Obion you've got to listen to me, listen to your mother, you know we love you..."

"You don't know how to love, you freak! You monster! Leave me the _fuck_ alone!" Qui-Gon winced. Maul was anything but those things, but the words had to hurt, which is probably exactly what Obion wanted.

There was the noise of a door slamming, then silence.

Qui-Gon walked back into the palace, frowning thunderously.

* * *

He was very nearly late for the meeting. Luckily, Bellen had the meeting agenda loaded to a crystal which Qui-Gon put in his reader and skimmed while being led to the conference room. He wasn't surprised to see the Dhro's capture of Naboo was a major topic of discussion.

A strangely subdued Terrell led him to the door of the conference room and turned to take a seat just outside, with the other pages. When Qui-Gon entered, still engrossed in the agenda and also calling up the latest missive from the Temple, he didn't realize he was not alone until he heard a sharply indrawn breath from ahead of him.

He glanced up to see a long conference table dominating a room made cozy by its size. There were no windows and the room _felt_ soundproof; every step and word vanished into the thick, beautiful woven hangings that covered the walls. Already seated at the table were the Seneschal, the First Minister and his ward, Bruck Chun, and five other court councilors, all but one of whom Qui-Gon had met on his first full day in the palace. It took him a moment to recall their names and functions, but he blamed that lack on seeing Palpatine's scowling face.

Nodding politely to the table at large, Qui-Gon pointedly took a seat as far from Palpatine and Chun as possible. Instead, he sat near Finis Valorum, the Chancellor of the Coruscant Federation. The Empress herself was not yet in the room.

Valorum nodded to him pleasantly. "Good day, Master Jinn."

Qui-Gon bowed his head. "And to you, Chancellor Valorum. I didn't know you were on Corellia."

"I arrived this morning," Valorum said with a sigh, "at the express wish of her Exalted Majesty. The situation isn't good on Coruscant at the moment, and I was glad of the reprieve." Valorum smiled weakly at Qui-Gon. "I didn't know you were here. It was something of a shock to find out a Jedi was living with the Sith."

"I can assure you, the shock is as much mine as yours, Finis." Qui-Gon had worked with Finis Valorum in the past and liked the man. He was stuck with the unenviable task of trying to keep the Coruscant Consortium, a loosely-tied body consisting of the various business concerns and federations which ran Coruscant, from blowing up each other or the planet. "What's happening on Coruscant? Or is that what you're here to relate?"

"That and other..."

Valorum was cut off by the door opening to admit the Empress, followed closely, of course, by Maul. Obion was understandably absent; there was an empty chair to the left of the Empress, between her and her First Minister. Everyone stood and waited until she had taken a seat at the head of the table before sitting down again. "You have all received a copy of the agenda, so we will not waste time," she began, her voice inflectionless and brusque. "Naboo has fallen to the Dhro, and Alderaan is undoubtedly next on his agenda. We have asked Chancellor Valorum to Corellia for a report on Coruscant. Please begin, Chancellor Valorum."

Valorum didn't rise, but he did clear his throat before speaking. "Exalted Majesty; esteemed councilors. The man who calls himself the mouth of the Dhro has been to Coruscant twice -- that I know of. Against my express wishes, he has spoken before the entire Consortium once, though it was empty words." He looked down at his datapad. "I also know -- though I cannot say specifically how I know -- that he has spoken in private to the Trade Federation, the Banking Clan and the Techno Union."

"What is the pervading opinion about the Dhro, Chancellor Valorum?" 

"That is a loaded question, Exalted Majesty." Valorum rubbed his eyes and looked exhausted; Qui-Gon felt a burst of sympathy for the man. Finis sometimes seemed to have infinite patience, but Qui-Gon knew that wasn't true. "Officially, I have been told to extend every courtesy to the Dhro's envoy, short of conceding to his 'requests.' Officially, the Consortium is not interested in anything the Dhro wants."

"And unofficially?"

Valorum's face was bleak. "Unofficially... I believe at least three of the members of the Consortium have already thrown over to him and will not impede his conquest of Coruscant." Yes, that came as no surprise to Qui-Gon, who had already figured as much.

"Exalted Majesty," Palpatine said, frowning, "I feel I must object. It could hardly be called conquest if both parties agree to it. Perhaps we're being alarmist over the situation."

"Alarmist?" The Empress' eyes were cold and her voice was hard. "Explain." Qui-Gon couldn't tell if she was upset with the man or his comments, and he frowned as Palpatine began to speak.

"All we know about the Dhro is secondhand. We haven't heard from anyone who has actually dealt with him, personally -- just his envoy. We have heard from our Jedi neighbors that Naboo has 'fallen' to the Dhro... but consider the source. I find it difficult to believe the Jedi can be privy to more information than we are. What proof do we have this is so? News of the Dhro's so-called conquests started less than five years ago. I find it rather far-fetched one person could conquer several whole planetary governments in less than five years."

"The Dhro's forces have been massing and spreading for more than twenty years, Minister." Maul's voice was flat. "That is something I can attest to -- or do you doubt my veracity as you do the revered Jedi's?"

"Of course not, Maul," Palpatine said. His voice was gentle and one step from condescending; it grated on Qui-Gon's nerves, and it wasn't even directed at him. "I am merely trying to be the voice of reason here. We should not act as if we are under attack when we may not be or indeed, may never be."

"Simply because the Dhro's envoy hasn't shown up here -- yet -- on Corellia, doesn't mean he won't," another minister said mildly. "The Empress is quite right to be treating the situation proactively, especially now, when we have news the Dhro's contagion is spreading."

"But is it indeed a contagion?" Palpatine turned his mild gaze on the man who had spoken. "We are quick to use such words -- contagion, conquest -- but I wonder how true they really are, Mazen. What exactly does the Dhro offer the worlds he has, in so many words, conquered? Are those worlds actually better off? Is it indeed conquest?" He looked back to the Empress. "We do not know the answers to these questions and perhaps it is time to pose them properly. I only counsel circumspection, Exalted Majesty." Much to his displeasure, Qui-Gon found himself almost agreeing with Palpatine. The one thing well-known about the Dhro was the size of his armed forces. Circumspection might well be the better part of valor, in Corellia's case.

"What the Dhro offers is totalitarianism," Valorum said quietly. "With himself at the forefront. That is what the man who calls himself 'the mouth of the Dhro' said, Roberd. I heard him myself."

"But, Finis." Once again, Qui-Gon found the voice of the First Minister irritating. "I'm sure that's what you thought you heard. But what were his actual words?"

"I can get you a transcript of you want it, but his words were, join the Dhro's empire, one way or another, and revere him as leader." Valorum leaned forward and tapped the table between himself and Palpatine. "If you do not wish to join his empire, that's unfortunate for you, because you will be made to. There is no choice offered, Roberd."

"And why is it bad to join the Dhro's empire?" Palpatine looked around the table; the other councilors were frowning, but the Empress' face was as bare of emotion as the table. "We are assuming quite a lot here, I believe."

"But Naboo..." A different minister, an elderly man. "Naboo has fallen, he has taken it. We know this."

"We know it from our revered Jedi's intelligence," Palpatine replied gently. "Which, I must say, I find suspect to a degree." Qui-Gon took a deep breath but made sure none of the annoyance he felt showed on his face.

"Why would that be, First Minister?" the Empress asked.

"Because the Sith and the Jedi are age-old enemies." He smiled toothily across the table at Qui-Gon. "Present company excepted, of course. We do not know whose side they are on, we have no way of confirming they are who they say they are, that they want what they say they do. It comes down to trust. We have no way of verifying their claims, none at all."

"And would you wait until we have refugees knocking at our door to do something, to take defensive measures?" Maul was all but glaring at Palpatine. "Would you wait until we have the Dhro breathing down our necks? Or would you hand the Corellian system to him on a platter?"

"I merely counsel care, Lord Maul." Qui-Gon could almost hear Maul's teeth grinding from where he sat, and wondered if Palpatine deliberately used the title to goad Maul. "I know you have personal issues with the Dhro, and I do sympathize. But this isn't about just you; it's about our whole world. We must be cautious."

"I would remind the First Minister that Selonia is also in the Corellian system." Qui-Gon kept his voice bland by dint of years of practice. The man might have some good ideas, but Qui-Gon would be damned if he would voice any agreement to them. "It is well within our interests to keep our system free of the Dhro."

"I'm sure it is." Palpatine smiled sweetly, but his eyes were hard as Ilum crystals. "And I would not presume to usurp the Jedi's position in this matter. I speak only for Corellia."

"The Jedi's position in the matter is the Dhro must be stopped." Qui-Gon smiled back at Palpatine -- two could play that game, and Qui-Gon had at least as many years of experience at it as Palpatine. "He represents the greatest danger to our galaxy we have yet faced."

"You'll pardon me if I reserve judgment on that, Master Jinn." Was that just a note of testiness?

"Roberd, you are playing dice with Corellia's autonomy if you continue in that vein." Minister Mazen Toor again. "I believe her Majesty's present course to be a good one. We cannot be allowed to rest, to do nothing, to sit idly by while darkness gathers around us!"

"We understand your need for caution in this matter and will take such under advisement, First Minister." The Empress' voice had passed well beyond hard and was bordering icy. "But at this moment, we have no reason to doubt the Jedi's intelligence." Palpatine inclined his head, graciously acknowledging her sovereignty. "We have sent word to Alderaan, offering shelter to the Organa household. We have not yet heard from Queen Amidala; she is still among the missing."

"Majesty, what news have you had from Alderaan? Have they come under siege?" With a start, Qui-Gon remembered Valorum was Alderaanian by birth. "There has been little information from them, of late."

"The envoy of the Dhro, this man who calls himself the mouth of the Dhro, has made his third 'offer'," she replied, not without some sympathy -- so she knew of Valorum's heritage as well. "We expect the offer, rather, the threat, will be rejected, which is why we have offered sanctuary to House Organa." She glanced at Qui-Gon, then at Palpatine, though Qui-Gon could not discern her feelings at all. "We have been led to believe the reason little news is escaping Alderaan is the Dhro has put a blockade around the system and is jamming most newsfeeds. This has not been confirmed, however."

"If there's a blockade, how will House Organa get free of Alderaan?" Yet another minister, whose question was echoed around the room. "And could that be affecting Queen Amidala?"

"All we can do is hope. As it has been driven home to us recently, where there is life, there is hope." She raised one elegant eyebrow in Qui-Gon's direction. "And there are always ways to get past blockades."

"Which begs the question, should we be taking more proactive measures in that direction?" One of the younger ministers was speaking, Lord Sallish, as Qui-Gon remembered. "And if we do take such measures, will it only bring us to the attention of the Dhro that much sooner?"

"I, for one, am not willing to paint a target on Corellia, and it seems to me we would be doing so by direct interference. To speak the truth, I'm not even happy with giving sanctuary to House Organa, let alone Queen Amidala, for that very reason." The minister, Lord Blelling, was speaking for the first time, and Qui-Gon wondered if he were in Palpatine's camp, or simply conservative in his thinking. 

"The Dhro is sweeping across the galaxy, in a sharply defined pattern," Maul replied. "We have no reason to believe he will change his course. The Corellian system lies beyond Coruscant and, if he holds to pattern, we will be seeing this mouth person within the next few months."

"What of the rumors that the Hutts have already thrown in with him?" Toor again. "Is there any way we might be caught in the middle of a trap?"

The Empress looked at Qui-Gon to reply. "We have been unable to confirm or deny the Hutts have entered into any type of treaty with the Dhro." He sighed. "We are hampered by the fact that we are being forced to pull out from wherever the Dhro is."

Several people frowned, including the Empress. "Do you know why, Master Jinn?"

He looked down at the table -- he thought everyone knew of the pain the Jedi were experiencing. "When the Jedi come near the Dhro's forces, the Jedi go missing, Exalted Majesty. We must presume they are dead, since we can no longer sense them. The Dhro apparently feels threatened by us for some reason. We have taken the stance that wherever any of the Dhro's forces appear, the Jedi will return to the Temple at all speed."

"Why would the Dhro be killing Jedi?" Valorum looked shocked an appalled, as did several of the ministers at the table. Palpatine did not, though he did look puzzled, something that Qui-Gon noted absently. "How could the Jedi possibly be posing some sort of threat to him?"

Qui-Gon spread his hands. "I do not know, Finis, but I wish I did. Those who have been taken were generally on diplomatic missions. And the Dhro isn't saying why."

"We did not know this," the Empress said, her bland mask giving way to her concern. "Though this changes nothing, it perhaps is another piece to the puzzle." Qui-Gon frowned at her, and she continued. "It is important to remember the Jedi are no longer warriors as much as they are diplomats. Further, what are Jedi known for? Using the Force." There was a murmur at the table and several ministers gave Qui-Gon dark looks. Qui-Gon was quite relieved that she had brought up the subject, not he. "I cannot see the Dhro being threatened by diplomats, which leaves us to wonder why he would feel threatened by Force users?"

This was not a new argument to Qui-Gon, though he was surprised the Empress didn't know about the Dhro's apparent slaughter of Jedi. "That is a question we have been asking for some time now, Exalted Majesty. At first, we didn't realize what was happening. But the team on Telos, one of the first worlds to fall to the Dhro, was able to get a message out before they were attacked. They had been asked there specifically to help Telos deal with this new threat, the Dhro." He sighed. "That was over five years ago. It has only gotten worse since then."

"Telos is almost unimaginably far from Corellia," Toor murmured. "And it's some distance from Naboo, as well."

"It follows the pattern the Dhro has set," Maul said. "He is sweeping in towards the core worlds in his quest for dominion. Each planet he brings under his sway increases his strength. I don't think he intends to stop until every civilized planet in the galaxy is under his power."

"There are planets beyond Corellia, not just those controlled by the Hutts. Those living on Hoth or Bespin will be looking to us for leadership." The Empress looked around the room slowly, carefully. "Lord Blelling has the right of it: making Corellia into a target cannot be our goal. However, we should not allow fear to color our decisions. We have no plans of relinquishing our sovereignty to any being, under any circumstances. If it is intended that Corellia be the finish of the Dhro, then that is, indeed, what will happen, and we will make every effort to complete that intention." 

"Intended by whom, Exalted Majesty?" Palpatine's question was delivered in a deceptively mild tone of voice.

The Empress stared at him through hooded eyes, and Qui-Gon was reminded of a beautiful but deadly serpent he had seen once in a zoological park. "That is hardly within our purview to say, First Minister."

* * *

The rest of the meeting went much as the beginning had. To Qui-Gon's count, roughly half of the ministers supported Palpatine's position of cautious neutrality, while the others argued for a proactive stance. Qui-Gon could tell, while the Empress would listen and take into account the wishes of her councilors, she would, in the end, do as she wished. Corellia was hardly a democracy, after all -- thank the Force for that.

Maul held him back as the meeting broke up in order to speak to him. In little more than a murmur, he said, "Please go to Obion's rooms; Dr. Pfelling is waiting for you."

Surprised, hoping it wasn't serious but dreading it might be, Qui-Gon simply nodded shortly, picked up Terrell and made his way quickly to the Heir's rooms. Terrell tapped on the door and it was opened by a young man in the livery of the Empress. "Galer, it's Master Jinn to see his Highness," Terrell said quietly.

"Oh! Come in. The doctor is expecting you."

Leaving his page with the heir's page, Qui-Gon moved back to the bedroom, where Dr. Pfelling was waiting for him. "Doctor?" Qui-Gon kept his voice pitched low; Obion seemed to be sleeping. His color looked much better than it had earlier. "We didn't get a chance to formally meet. Qui-Gon Jinn, at your service."

"Master Jinn." Dr. Pfelling's fringe of hair was both red and silver, and his face held many laugh lines. Qui-Gon found himself almost instinctively trusting the man as they shook hands; he had an aura of good cheer and calm efficiency. "Thank you for coming. I understand I have you to thank for the fact that he ate and drank this morning, so I do. Thank you, that is."

"How is he?" 

"He's resting comfortably. I have him under mild sedation -- he had a rather eventful afternoon, unfortunately." The doctor sighed. "He experienced a long, though shallow, rectal tear which has nearly healed. I've just inserted another bacta suppository, but that was only as a precaution." Dr. Pfelling rubbed his bald head. "I'm more concerned about the shock, actually. He didn't lose much blood, but he's showing signs of excessive trauma, and I don't know why."

Qui-Gon frowned. "He was not injured in any other way?"

"No. Not that I can tell, at any rate." He took a deep breath and blew it out forcefully. "He also will not tell me who hurt him, or under what circumstances. I've taken samples -- he doesn't know that -- and I can go around and test every male in the palace, but he seems to think it was consensual..."

"Consensual?!" Qui-Gon hissed, outraged. So that's what the argument he overheard was about. "How could what happened to him be considered consensual?"

Dr. Pfelling stared bleakly into Qui-Gon's eyes. "He could think so if he were under a geas."

His jaw dropping, Qui-Gon blinked stupidly at the doctor. "A... You think he's been put under a Force suggestion."

"If that's what you call it, then yes. I delivered this boy, Master Jinn. I know him inside and out. I cannot imagine him agreeing to such abuse without putting up a fight. And I definitely can't see him not talking to Adi about it. They are very close."

"And he specifically asked for her not to be alerted," Qui-Gon said, swallowing hard as he looked at the young man on the bed. 

"It is not normal. Not for him." The doctor looked sad. "Force use is illegal in the Empire, Master Jinn. However, I know that doesn't necessarily mean anything to those who would use it for nefarious purposes. I happen to know the entire royal family is Force-sensitive, and many of the common people are as well." He looked into Qui-Gon's eyes, letting Qui-Gon see his worry. "If he is under a geas, what you call a Force suggestion, can you break it?"

Qui-Gon hadn't felt quite so helpless since he had lost his last padawan. "I..." He swallowed. "The mind-healers, at the Temple, they might. I doubt I could do anything."

"Will you try?" Dr. Pfelling's lips turned up in a wry, sad smile. "I have nowhere else to turn. You are perhaps the only one on this planet trained in Force use, Master Jinn."

"Not the only one, apparently," Qui-Gon growled. "I'll try. I just don't know what good I'll do."

Sitting next to Obion on the bed, Qui-Gon reached for the young man's hand, cradling it in his own. He took a deep breath, held it, and slowly let it go, while fighting to find his own calm center, his serenity, which was badly shredded by his anger at whoever had hurt this young man, the son of his friend, the Empress.

After some time struggling with it, he finally managed to release the emotions to the Force, which welcomed him joyfully into its heart. Closing his eyes in order to feel, he sought Obion's beautiful, blue aura, the one he had seen before at dinner. It was glowing peacefully as he rested, but there were still those strange, dark lines of taint, and some of them seemed deeper, almost embedded within his psyche. He didn't know if he could affect them, though he found himself longing to touch the young man's aura. 

Taking another deep breath to further ground himself, he 'reached' with his metaphysical hands and plucked one of the strange, black strands. 

In the next instant, he found himself on the floor next to the wall. He had an aching head and back and no idea how he came to be there. Dr. Pfelling was staring at him in astonishment.

* * *

He was not willing to try anything else after what happened, mainly because he was worried how it might affect Obion. Instead, he composed a lengthy description of the problem, addressed it to the Temple's healers, and had Maul send it personally. Someone in the palace was a Force user, a Force abuser; someone was trying to subvert the heir to the Empress and now that he knew it, now that _Maul_ knew it, it was only a matter of time before the villain was caught and destroyed. Or worse. But until the abuser was caught, Qui-Gon would be very careful in what he said and did. The message to the Temple Healers was couched in the most general way, to avoid alarming anyone who might be listening in.

Qui-Gon thought the abuser was Palpatine, though he knew that might be his prejudices showing. At any rate, it would not be either politic or tactful to make any accusations until further evidence was gathered.

There was little time left in the day, but Qui-Gon didn't think he could face another dinner without releasing some of the tension and frustration he felt. So he quickly changed into some comfortable, raggedy clothing and had Terrell lead him to the room set aside for workouts, after asking Bellen to cancel any remaining appointments for the day. Terrell was still strangely reticent, and as Qui-Gon began warming up, stretching muscles that felt cramped from too much care and worry, he finally decided to get to the bottom of it.

"Terrell, you do realize I can't read minds?" When Terrell blinked at him in shock, he added, "If there's something bothering you, you'll have to tell me what it is. That's the only way I'll find out."

"Oh!" Terrell flushed and examined his feet very carefully. "I'm sorry, Master Jinn. I just... um..." Terrell was obviously screwing up his courage for some reason, and it mystified Qui-Gon. "Has... my service displeased you?"

It was Qui-Gon's turn to blink. "No, of course not. I've appreciated your help enormously." He shook his head in confusion. "Why would you think otherwise?"

With an audible swallow, Terrell's eyes came back up, though they still wouldn't meet Qui-Gon's. "I thought... when I came in, and you were with Sir Matrin... yesterday afternoon... and what you said..."

Ahh... so that was it. "Terrell. The Seneschal and I were discussing a wholly different topic. I assure you, if I were displeased with your service, you would have known about it long before now."

"Oh." Terrell's relief was palpable and Qui-Gon shook his head in amusement. 

"Don't let things build up like that, Terrell. It's bad for your health." He winked at his page who smiled weakly. "If you intend to stay, please stay back, by the door. I'll be using my lightsaber and I cannot have any distractions."

Terrell did stay, and Qui-Gon felt the young man's astonishment at the periphery of his concentration as he began the first kata in the third 'saber form. It was a very athletic form and all the katas in it required significant exertion, both physically and mentally. Qui-Gon let himself become immersed into the Force and felt all the cares of the day melt away as he leaped from form to form. 

He had resolved to do only the first half of the forms, since he knew he had dinner shortly and would need to shower and change before. Somewhere in the middle of the penultimate form he would do, he felt the door open and another presence enter. He knew Terrell would keep whoever it was back, and out of the way, so he continued. 

By the end of the kata's middle form, he felt sweaty, sore and infinitely better. He landed from the last aerial precisely where he intended to, his 'saber held ready, puffing with exertion. Drawing deep breaths to settle his metabolism, he straightened, powered off his 'saber and stretched. 

"Wow." Anikin's voice from the door had him turning. Both Terrell and Anikin looked completely flummoxed. Had their eyes been any bigger, they would have fallen out of their faces.

Walking in tight circles to cool down, Qui-Gon smiled at both his page and the heir. "Wow, huh?"

"That was so utterly wizard," Anikin said in a voice that was hushed and awed. "I wanna learn that. I want to know how to do it. Master Qui-Gon, please, can you teach me how to do it?"

"You're a bit too young for that particular kata, Ani," he replied with a smile. "But I'll talk to your mother about it."

"You will? Promise? Wow." Anikin was obviously taken with the whole idea. "Can I see your lightsaber?"

"No." Qui-Gon smiled gently at the boy's crestfallen face. "It's a very dangerous weapon, Ani. I have to be very careful with it."

"Oh, well." Anikin was such an agreeable child, so much nicer than his younger sister, Maisen. "I wanted to find you because you said I should talk to you about my dream."

"That's right," Qui-Gon said, remembering with a start. The morning seemed a lifetime ago. "I don't think I've got time now, though. Terrell?"

"About a quarter hour to dinner, Master Jinn." Terrell looked better too; the old cockiness was back and the shadows had left his eyes. If only it were that easy with Obion, Qui-Gon thought with a sigh.

"Then I don't have time, Ani." When the boy's face fell, Qui-Gon put his hand on Anikin's shoulder and squeezed gently. "Will you come by after dinner? I would like to talk to you about the dream, but I don't want either of us to be in a hurry."

"All right," Anikin agreed. He took Qui-Gon's hand. "I'll walk you back to your rooms." 

"Only if you're not skipping another class," Qui-Gon replied with a laugh.

* * *

Dinner was quiet. Obion was absent, as were the other children, as well as Palpatine and his ward. Qui-Gon wasn't certain if it were because of Obion being ill that the other children were allowed to eat elsewhere, but he appreciated not having to deal with Palpatine or his ward, Chun. He sat to the left of the Empress, as he was getting used to, and made small talk with her or his companion to his left, Finis Valorum.

Back in his rooms, he found messages waiting for him from the Temple, left active by Bellen when she left for the day. Two of them were from the Council, adding more detail to the situation on Naboo, and one was from the Healers, which he read and immediately realized would do him no good. Anikin poking his head in the door gave him a welcome reprieve.

He came burdened with a tray on which rested two covered bowls. "Jay said I should bring this, since he didn't want me to start gnawing on the furniture in hunger." Anikin rolled his eyes as Qui-Gon took the tray and placed it on the sideboard. "Jay is always making jokes, but I'm really hungry, Master Qui-Gon!"

"I'm sure you are, Ani. You're probably going through a growth-spurt." The bowls contained a frozen fruit confection and they sat on the couch to eat. 

"Oh, I hope not," Anikin said with a sigh as he began shoveling the dessert down. "I hate getting new clothes. I just broke these in!"

"Perhaps if you paused between bites, it would fill you up faster," Qui-Gon suggested, holding back his chuckles. 

Despite rolling his eyes again, Anikin made an effort to slow down. Even so, the food was gone quickly. "Can I tell you about my dreams now?" he asked, putting his bowl on the low table before them.

"Of course. Wait..." Qui-Gon frowned. "I thought you said dream. Are you getting the same dream multiple times, Ani?"

"Uh-huh." Anikin sighed. "And they're really scary sometimes, too. Mam says I should try to... to... take control of them. But I can't. Not always."

Qui-Gon nodded. "That's called lucid dreaming, Ani. It's a good technique to learn. Tell me about the dream you had last night."

"Well, it's not all that scary to talk about, really," Anikin began slowly. "I was just walking around, but the whole palace was falling apart, like it had been blown up or something. And then I turned a corner and... and... I saw mam. She was lying on the ground, and I think she was dead." Ani swallowed and Qui-Gon pulled him in for a hug. "But the weirdest thing was, I was glad she was dead." He looked up at Qui-Gon with anxious eyes. "I don't want mam dead, Master Qui-Gon, really."

"I know, Ani, I know."

"Anyway, so I turned around and starting walking the other way, and then Obi was there. He had a lightsaber, like yours, only his was red." Qui-Gon had to hold his start of surprise in at those words. "And when I saw him? I was mad. Mad at him. So I turned on _my_ lightsaber too. And mine was red too." He looked up at Qui-Gon. "I don't really like red. I think your green one is really pretty."

"Jedi don't use red lightsabers, Ani." To himself, he added, only Dark Force users have red lightsabers. Once upon a time, Sith did as well.

"Oh. Well, I didn't like the red one. It made me think of blood, and I don't really like that."

"I understand," Qui-Gon murmured. "What happened next?"

"Well, not much, really. That's why I don't really understand why the dreams scare me so much. Usually, I just meet someone, turn on a red lightsaber and fight them. Most of the time, it's Obi." Anikin sighed. "And I guess that's scary, because I really love Obi, and I would never want to hurt him."

"Dreams are very strange things, Anikin," Qui-Gon said, while part of his mind filed the information away for further thought. "They don't always mean what we think them to mean." _Unless they're prophetic_.

"So does it mean that it isn't important? That they're just nightmares, brought on by eating too much sweet stuff before I go to bed like Nanny Brom says?"

"I think that's probably the case," Qui-Gon lied. "But let's agree to this. If you have another one, you can always tell me about it, and we'll try to decide if it's important or not."

"Oh. That would be good," Anikin said. "Mam gets upset when I wake up in the middle of the night, when she knows I haven't been sleeping good-- _well_. And I hate to get her upset, she's so busy, you know?"

"Yes, I do know," Qui-Gon replied, giving Anikin another hug. "I'll be glad to tell her that you're working on them with me, and perhaps that'll help her rest too."

"Thanks, Master Qui-Gon, thanks a lot! It'll help Mam."

"You're welcome, Ani."

They talked about inconsequential things for a while -- Anikin's models of various spaceships and how he loved building them, Qui-Gon's lightsaber and how it worked, what Qui-Gon was teaching the older girls -- then there was a tap on the door. When Qui-Gon called enter, Maul came in.

"Ah, I thought I'd find you here," he said to Anikin with a smile.

"Oh no, is it late? I got a paper to finish," Anikin said, scrambling off the couch.

"It's not that late, and your mother would like to see you before you go to your rooms, Ani." Maul looked so much more at ease now, and Qui-Gon was glad to see it. No longer the frightening bodyguard, he had become a person, a friend, to Qui-Gon. "And I have to talk to Master Jinn."

"All right. Thanks, Maulie. Thanks, Master Qui-Gon." With fast hugs to both of them, Anikin raced out of the suite.

"His perpetual motion makes even me tired," Maul commented with a sigh.

"He's a wonderful child." Qui-Gon chuckled. "So... different from Maisen. I think he got all the charm, leaving little for her."

Maul sank into the chair opposite Qui-Gon with a groan. "Don't even bring her up, please." They both chuckled, but Maul's laughter felt forced and tired. 

"She'll find her path, eventually." Qui-Gon leaned back. "I hope. You look exhausted, my friend."

Maul nodded shortly, acknowledging Qui-Gon's words. "I know you've heard from your Temple, but I haven't had an opportunity to talk to you since you sent your message earlier today." Maul gave him a shrewd look. "Dr. Pfelling told me what happened between you and Obion, but I don't understand it, and neither does he."

Scrubbing his face with his hands, Qui-Gon leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. "Maul, his aura has been compromised." Maul looked startled for a moment, then he narrowed his eyes. "I noticed it my first night here, but it's worse now. And Dr. Pfelling says that, according to Obion, what happened to him was consensual. It was not."

"Is that why you sent the message to the healers at the Temple?"

"Yes." Qui-Gon sighed. "They're no help, unfortunately. They just confirm the symptoms described are that of a strong Force suggestion, an attempt at Force control. Your doctor called it a geas. That's not far from the truth."

Shaking his head, looking both confused and angry, Maul leaned forward as well. "Explain it to me, please. I know of the Force, I've been trained -- to a point -- in its use. But it was a long time ago and there's much about my life then I don't remember."

"The Dhro?"

Maul nodded.

"Would that you had more training," Qui-Gon murmured. "My suspicion is someone here, in the palace, a member of the court, is a Dark Force user. I don't know who it is. Whoever it is has managed to severely compromise Obion's aura and has almost superseded his will. It's not unheard of -- I've studied texts in the Temple that talk of it -- but it hasn't been seen like this in hundreds or even thousands of years. Not since Exar Kun, not since the Jedi-Sith wars."

"Exar Kun is who caused the rift, wasn't it?" Maul was giving Qui-Gon his undivided attention, a formidable thing. 

"Partially." Qui-Gon sighed again and frowned. "The Jedi have always used the Force, but never for gain, never for ill-purpose. The Sith, as a race, have always been Force-sensitive in large numbers, and back then, many Sith became Jedi. Some remained Sith and untrained, some Sith were nearly Force-blind." He spread his hands and Maul nodded, indicating he should continue. "But then there were some Jedi -- and some Sith -- who discovered the allure of the Dark Force, the siren song of total control. They used the Dark Force in an attempt to take over both the Jedi and the Sith... and the galaxy, as well. It took the combined might of both Jedi and Sith to defeat those who had gone over, those who had descended to the Dark. There were only two of them -- Exar Kun and his master, Freedon Nadd -- but two was more than enough to cause significant damage." Maul nodded again; he was familiar with this. "But when the war was won, we found it wasn't, actually, because the Sith blamed the Jedi for allowing the Dark Force users to arise in the first place."

"Which is why the Jedi and the Sith split," Maul murmured. "And why the Sith have outlawed the use of the Force."

"Exactly." 

"But now, there's another Dark Force user?"

"User or users." Qui-Gon fell silent for a moment, ordering his thoughts. He hated this, hated knowing this Dark Force user might destroy the fragile peace between the Jedi and the Sith. It was made all the more poignant because he knew, all too well, that it might take the combined strength of the Jedi and the Sith to once again prevail against such a being. There was a reason why they were demonized in stories of the time. "There's a saying: always there are two. Generally, a Dark Force user will take... will have... an apprentice, so that if you have eliminated one, the other will still present a threat." He spread his hands. "During the war, Kun and Nadd corrupted hundreds, thousands of people, Jedi and Sith, but once they were both gone, the corruption basically disappeared and the threat from those compromised disappeared as well."

"How could this have happened without our knowledge?" Maul sounded angry, and Qui-Gon thought, well, he should be.

"What would you look for?" He spread his hands, helplessly. "You don't allow Force training, Force usage. The Sith have banned it, but all that means is a Dark Force user can hide, can infiltrate, more easily, because no one guards against it. I can tell you're Force-sensitive: very much so. And I can tell all the heirs and the Empress herself -- they are all very Force-sensitive, and have a native talent for using it. They might have gone mad otherwise. But it's not trained, it's not honed." He made a frustrated noise. "And mine is, but I still can't sense who it is because he's gone too far underground and hidden himself too well!"

Maul jumped up and began pacing, and Qui-Gon could almost hear his teeth grinding. "I do not like the idea that I am helpless here," he growled. "It is very difficult for me to come to terms with the fact that I can do nothing to help my -- the Empress and her family."

"I can assure you, my friend, I like it as little as you do." Unbidden, the pale face of Obion rose before him and his heart clenched. 

"There must be something we can do."

"Short of training the Empress' children to be Jedi, I don't know what it is."

Maul froze and turned to him slowly, a dawning hope in his eyes. "Trained as Jedi."

Startled, Qui-Gon back-pedaled sharply. "Maul, I cannot take on five children as padawans. That's... that's absurd! And all of them, except maybe Anikin and Maisen, are too old to train properly. Not only that, but Force use is illegal on Corellia."

"Not any longer." 

Qui-Gon swallowed. He knew what Maul was asking him, and it frightened him, worried him, made him wonder if he were up to the challenge. When he spoke, he could tell his voice sounded strangled. "You're asking a lot from me, my friend."

"I know." Maul once again sat opposite him. "I know." His heart was in his eyes, and Qui-Gon could feel his frustration and worry. Qui-Gon had been raised almost since birth to help people, to aid those in need. He was almost constitutionally incapable of walking away from a situation where he could help.

"Let me sleep on it," Qui-Gon finally said, in a murmur. 

Maul nodded. "The Empress has requested you at breakfast in the morning. I'll see you there."

Qui-Gon didn't reply. Maul let himself out, and Qui-Gon went about his evening routine, though it took him a long, long time to fall asleep.

* * *


	4. Chapter 4

**CHAPTER FOUR**

The next morning's breakfast was far cheerier and felt more 'normal' than the previous day's. When Qui-Gon arrived, he found Anikin already there, on his mother's lap, talking excitedly about Qui-Gon's lightsaber. It was a story Anikin must have been practicing, unfortunately, as he related it with a completeness that was startling. The Empress gave Qui-Gon a look that was part humorous and part alarmed, but Anikin didn't even notice. The moment Qui-Gon sat, he found himself with a lapful of young boy, hugging him tightly. 

"I didn't have any bad dreams last night, Master Qui-Gon," he said softly. "But I did have a dream where you and me were fighting off really bad guys, and I had a green lightsaber, just like yours. It was wizard."

"That sounds very exciting, Ani," Qui-Gon said with a smile. Anikin allowed himself to be lured to the table by the smell of food, and Matrin began serving him. "Good morning, Exalted Majesty." 

"Good morning, Master Jinn. I understand I have you to thank for my second son's abrupt love of all things Jedi." Her face twisted into a wry smile. "I'm not at all certain whether to be grateful or worried."

"After my talk with Maul last night, I may join you in hiding under the bed, Majesty." His dry words made her laugh.

Obion came into the room, followed closely by Maul. He looked vastly improved over the day before, though he did pause and flush when he saw Qui-Gon sitting across from his mother. "Obi." The Empress was smiling at her son and had her hand extended. 

He took it, bending to kiss her cheek. "Good morning, Mam."

"How do you feel?" she asked him, and he swallowed.

"Better." Turning from his mother, he gave Qui-Gon a long, enigmatic look, then nodded a hello. With a half smile, Qui-Gon nodded back.

A loud fussing heralded the arrival of Maisen and Cliadle. The older girl had her half-sister by the arm and was all but dragging her into the room. Obion suddenly laughed and walked over to them, picking Maisen up like a sack of tubers and tossing her over his shoulder. "Having difficulty, sister?"

"Oh, that child!" Cliadle had to speak loudly to be heard over Maisen's complaints. "Good morning, Obi. You look better." She leaned up and pecked Obion's cheek, and he smiled at her in return.

While Cliadle greeted her father and Qui-Gon, Obion carried Maisen -- still squirming and complaining -- to his mother. "I seem to have found a rather obnoxious growth, Exalted Mother," he said, trying to put his hand over Maisen's mouth and getting bitten.

"We shall have to have it removed then, Eldest Son." The Empress shook her head. "Maisen. Be still."

"Then make Obi put me down!" Maisen demanded.

"I shall have him put you down in your room, where you will stay all day if you do not start acting your age and rank." With a thunderous pout, Maisen finally subsided. "That's better. Now, your brother will put you down and you will eat your breakfast and we will not hear another word of complaint from you, yes?" The pout increased, but the Empress merely raised her eyebrow. "Yes?"

Maisen grumbled something that might have been an acquiescence, and Obion put her down next to her chair. Without a word, Matrin put a plate full of food before her, and she sat and began eating.

Anikin, who had jumped up to hug both Maul and Cliadle, turned to Obion, laughing as he hugged his brother. "You got her good, Obi."

Obion ruffled Anikin's hair. "Thanks, Ani."

"You gotta come see Master Qui-Gon work out, Obi. It's so totally wizard! He has a green lightsaber, and it..." 

Qui-Gon winced and sighed as Anikin went off, once again, into the wonders of a Jedi lightsaber. Obion and Cliadle were listening with incredulous expressions on their faces, and Qui-Gon sent an apologetic look to the Empress. "I'm truly sorry, Exalted Majesty."

Aliamon walked into the room as he spoke. "Sorry about what?"

Unfortunately, Anikin felt he had to start all over again.

* * *

"I'd like you to begin training the girls on the basics of Force control, Master Jinn." 

Qui-Gon sighed -- he knew it had been coming. They sat in their usual place in the Empress' garden, watching the birds feed as voraciously as Anikin at a table. 

The Empress picked up on his sigh, for she gave him an apologetic look. "Maul told me your reaction last evening. I realize I'm asking a lot, Qui-Gon, but..." She bit her lower lip and he saw the mother, not the Empress, for a moment. "Whoever it is has gone after Obion... what if Aliamon is next? Or Cliadle, or Anikin?"

"I understand," he replied. They sat in silence for a long moment while Qui-Gon struggled to speak. She was trusting him far more than he felt he deserved; he could be no less trusting of her. But it was a hard lump in his throat he had to speak past, very hard. "I welcomed this posting, Majesty, for several reasons, not the least of which is the fact that I... I don't feel, or even act, I suppose, very much like a Jedi, any longer. And I'm no longer being treated much like a real Jedi, either." She was obviously puzzled, but granted him the boon of silence, waiting for him to continue.

"My last padawan was Xanatos T'Crion, a beautiful boy from Telos who was so very Force-adept it was almost frightening." He smiled sadly as he let his memory drift back. "He became my padawan at seven, and I watched him grow, watched him become a man, become a Jedi, guided his steps to the Light. Then, we received an urgent communication from Telos, something about an invading army, something about a person called the Dhro."

He leaned forward and cupped his hands over his face. "Things moved so quickly... Xan was within months of taking his trials, becoming a knight. The team sent to Telos went missing and we had confirmation: the Dhro was a conquering force that was spreading." He glanced at her, but she was merely listening, enrapt in his tale. "If you look on a holomap of the galaxy, you can see it. Way out on the fringes of known space, that's where he came from, and he devoured worlds whole, without pause. Telos was next on his agenda.

"Xan begged to be allowed to go, to fight for his homeworld. I was frightened -- all right, I was terrified -- that if he did go, I'd lose him forever. Lose the bright light that was like my son." In his mind's eye, he saw Xanatos again, looking proud, worried, scared and happy as his braid was cut. "Finally, he went to the Council and proposed a bold plan. He would pretend to be a rejected Jedi, a Turned Jedi, and try to infiltrate the Dhro's operation. I was adamantly against it. I knew... I just knew... if he went, I'd never see him again. I argued against it. I was overruled."

A warm hand landed on his shoulder and he looked up in surprise. The Empress' eyes were soft and filled with compassion. "I was overruled because, in the end, my wishes weren't important. Xan had a good chance, at least in the eyes of the Council, so he went. The worst part was pretending to repudiate my padawan, my son, in order to cover for him. And he has managed to infiltrate very high in the Dhro's army. But I am so afraid for him, so dreadfully afraid for him, Majesty." He sighed, briefly wondered why he was trusting her with all his baggage and just as quickly dismissed the question. He trusted her, as much as she trusted him. Looking down, he added softly, "A Jedi is not supposed to feel fear, you see. Or love so strongly that it causes pain to say goodbye. Or form attachments. And it's all wrong, all so totally, terribly wrong."

They were silent again for a few long moments. When the Empress spoke, her voice was sad. "I... Ani and Ali aren't the only ones waking with nightmares, Qui-Gon. I have not slept more than a few hours a night for the past year. I see our deaths, at the hands of the Dhro, at the end of blood-red lightsabers. And I am very afraid." She ran her hand down his arm to take his hand. "A wise man once said to me, where there is life, there is hope. I have hope, Qui-Gon." 

He couldn't look at her, not while his emotions were so very near the surface, but he squeezed the hand in his. "I will do what I can, Majesty."

"I know, Qui-Gon. And my name is Adi."

* * *

The days began to blur into each other, a haze of teaching and learning and meeting after endless meeting. The official treaty between the Sith and the Jedi needed completing, and Minister Palpatine proved to be as obstructionist with that as he had been with resolutions against the Dhro. Bruck Chun continued his pursuit of Aliamon, though she was finding it easier to rebuff him as her meditations took her repeatedly to her calm place. 

And after several days, Obion joined the girls at 'meditation' class.

Initially, it was at his mother's command -- he didn't want anything to do with Qui-Gon, and Qui-Gon was fairly certain he knew why. The best way to overcome conditioning, however, is to be made aware of it. Qui-Gon watched, pleased at how Obion's grudging respect for all things Jedi grew. When they were able to genially argue over some esoteric point or other, and even draw the girls into it, it felt like a victory.

They kept the other part of the lessons between themselves: the only ones who knew were the Empress, the children involved, Maul and Qui-Gon. To everyone else, he was simply helping them calm and relax, since meditation was an accepted practice for leaders who had a heavy burden. Qui-Gon didn't think Anikin was ready yet for anything so sophisticated, but he knew it would be just a matter of time. He was already cognizant of tact and the need to keep certain things to himself. The poor boy was indeed going through a growth spurt, and everyone concerned despaired of finding clothing to fit him for more than a few days.

Obion took to the Force like a natural. All three of the older heirs had instinctual, native talent for sensing and using the Force, only they didn't call it that. Intuition, persuasion, good reflexes -- they were all something else entirely, something that went unspoken. Qui-Gon's lessons helped them focus and realize those skills for what they really were, and while he doubted they'd ever be as adept as a youngster raised in the Temple, they were able to grow in the right directions under his tutelage. It was easier than he had feared and more difficult than he had imagined, all at once.

At the end of one of their classes, Cliadle had a remarkable insight. "Obi, your aura looks... different."

Frowning at her, Obion stayed in the half-lotus he preferred. "What do you mean, Cli?"

"It's... I don't know how to describe it." Frustrated, she looked to Qui-Gon, who said nothing but encouraged her to continue. "When I look at Master Jinn, I see his as a beautiful, shining green, and Ali's is like that, only blue and not quite as bright, kind of dim in a way, but not by much. But yours..." She shook her head, still frowning. "It's like... I don't know. It's blue but it's not."

Auras were one of the first lessons learned in the Temple, and Qui-Gon saw no sense in changing that in this venue. He hadn't expected Cliadle's Force sense to be able to pick up on such nuances so quickly, however. After thinking it over, he decided to take a more diplomatic rather than honest path. "Sometimes, when we are troubled, our auras can reflect that, Cliadle." He had the attention of all three heirs now. "I know when I am working on a particularly knotty problem, or if I have a lot of anger stored up for some reason, my aura can actually darken."

"But, Master Jinn..." Aliamon was obviously confused. "You told us we should release our emotions, not hold them in."

"That's true, Ali, and I'm not advocating differently." He sighed, and looked at all three of them in turn. "There are some emotions that are more difficult to release than others, and there are some emotions we simply do not want to release at all." He smiled at their puzzled expressions. "Love. Compassion. Joy. I see no need to release those emotions to the Force, despite what the Jedi philosophy might be regarding them." And therein lies my pain, he added to himself.

"Well, that makes sense," Cliadle said. Her brow was still furrowed in thought, and Qui-Gon had the sudden thought of what a fabulous padawan she would have made in the Temple. "And those are not exactly wild emotions either, are they?"

"What do you mean?" Ali asked.

"Think about it, Ali. Master Jinn says we should release our emotions to the Force -- emotions like hatred, envy, that kind of thing. And that's good. You know as well as I do that hating someone can make you feel sick inside."

"Yes, I suppose that's true." The softly worded agreement came from Obion, and Qui-Gon quickly turned to the heir, trying to hide his surprise. But Obion was watching the girls with a far-away look on his face.

"Right, see?" Cliadle was warming to her subject and once again Qui-Gon marveled at the girl. "Releasing those emotions is good. It makes you feel better, not worse, and helps you to see the _why_ of something. And it's a good thing he's taught us how to do it."

"I just wish I could do it faster," Aliamon said with a sigh. It still took her almost fifteen minutes to calm and find her center.

"You will, my dear." Qui-Gon patted her hand. "You will. Every day you get a little bit better."

"But you do it almost instantly," Obion said to Qui-Gon. "I've seen you."

"Beg pardon?" It was Qui-Gon's turn to frown. 

"At dinner, your first dinner. Before you noticed the wine was poisoned." Obion was giving him a penetrating stare. "You closed your eyes briefly, and when you opened them again, you looked... no, that's not right." He chewed his lip thoughtfully for a moment before proceeding. "You _felt_ different. Is that how you knew the wine was poisoned?"

Astonished but trying hard to hide it, Qui-Gon blinked at Obion. "In a way..." he said. "Because I am so attuned to the Force, the Force can alert me to immediate danger. I had just grounded and centered, so it was even easier to receive a warning."

"Will we be able to do that too?" Obion asked, staring at Qui-Gon. 

"I don't know." Qui-Gon stared back, thinking. "You may. Generally it takes years of practice -- but in that case, you would have been trained almost since birth. In a way, you already use it, and we've discussed it before." He spread his hands. "You might."

"Think how useful that would be," Cliadle started.

Not exactly interrupting her -- for she continued to talk, just changed her focus to Aliamon alone -- Obion quietly asked Qui-Gon, "Why did you? Ground and center, I mean."

To speak the truth or to dissemble again? He was afraid if he didn't speak the truth, Obion would pick up on it, and he didn't want to alienate the young man, which was the last thing he wanted. "I wanted to see you, really see you."

"Why?"

"Because..." Qui-Gon paused and was aware all three young people were looking at him now. "Because I sensed something, and I couldn't tell what it was."

"Something about me."

"Yes."

Obion turned to Cliadle. "You said my aura looked peculiar." He turned back to Qui-Gon, and though Qui-Gon could feel his trepidation, it was to Obion's credit that he asked the question anyway. "What's wrong with my aura?"

Qui-Gon took a deep breath and slowly let it out, all the while staring at Obion. The heir was a truly beautiful young man with a keen mind. If Cliadle would have made a wonderful padawan, Obion would have been spectacular. "Before I answer, I think you need to do some reading. Cli, are there books that cover the Jedi-Sith war?"

"Yes, Master Qui-Gon, I've been studying them." She sounded concerned, and he smiled gently at her.

"The best one, then, please give it to your brother. And to Aliamon as well, but Highness, you need to read it first." He looked between them again. "Our time for today is up anyway. Tomorrow, we'll discuss it."

Obviously troubled but understanding too, the three young people got to their feet quickly. Qui-Gon followed a bit more slowly. "Ah, getting old is a terrible thing," he complained in a humorous voice.

To his surprise, Obion immediately and soberly responded. "You're not old, Master Jinn," he said. "You're not old at all."

Oddly, his words made Qui-Gon feel very warm inside.

* * *

When his meeting schedule permitted, Qui-Gon took to working out just before dinner. He used the same room each time, and sometimes, when his tutoring schedule permitted, Anikin would watch him. This day, however, he found a different watcher: Obion came into the room about halfway through his normal set of exercises and watched him, arms crossed before his chest, leaning up against the wall. Qui-Gon did his best to ignore the young man as he moved through the steps of another kata.

Finished, he powered off his 'saber and dropped his arms to his sides. Obion picked up and threw him his towel, which Qui-Gon wrapped around his neck as he cooled down. "Anikin is right," Obion said. "That is pretty wizard."

"It is, hm?" Qui-Gon chuckled. "I think Anikin likes the idea of the 'saber, that's all."

"Probably, but that's not all of it." Qui-Gon frowned at the cryptic remark, but Obion continued. "I've been taught to see Jedi as a threat, just because of that, what you were doing." He looked very sad. "It certainly doesn't feel like a threat."

"Highness, I give you my word, for what it's worth; I am no threat to the Sith. You and I know how important it is we reach an agreement, so we may fight the Dhro together."

Obion nodded shortly, but the sad expression on his face didn't go away. "May I see your 'saber?"

"Certainly." He presented it to Obion, handle first, and showed him where the power buttons were. Stepping aside, Obion lit the 'saber and moved it around, obviously fascinated.

"What can it cut through?"

"Pretty much anything... except another 'saber." Qui-Gon began some gentle stretching to further relax his muscles. "Every Jedi builds his own, it's something of a rite of passage."

"What's the power supply?"

"This one uses Ilum emeralds as the focus, so it needs a smaller power source," Qui-Gon began. He continued cooling down while he discussed the mechanics of the 'saber with Obion. It appeared Obion shared a passion for things mechanical with his half-brother, Anikin. Qui-Gon wondered how many ship models Obion had gone through while growing up.

When Qui-Gon finished his explanation, Obion handed the 'saber back. "If you wanted a different color..." he began, tentatively, "like, blue, what would you use?"

"Sapphires." Finished, Qui-Gon wrapped the towel around his neck, under his hair.

"And if you wanted, say... red. What would you use then?"

Qui-Gon could tell Obion was far more keenly interested in the answer to that question than he had been to the other. "Actually, there are no Ilum rubies. There is a stone for a red blade, a grossulite that's not found on Ilum. But it's very rare, and Jedi don't use it."

"Because it's rare?"

"That and for other reasons... because of the way it resonates in the Force, because of its inherent instability, reasons such as that. And because it's tradition. Dark Force users always had red 'sabers. Of course, they used synthetic crystals which produced dark red blades, not the grossulites." Obion raised his eyes to Qui-Gon's, and suddenly Qui-Gon realized Obion was having nightmares too. "Another part of the tradition is that the ancient Sith more often used the grossulite, only occasionally using blue or green Ilum crystals; but there were very few Sith who wielded a 'saber without becoming Jedi first. There are none at all, now."

"There will be soon, though, won't there? Once you're done training us." Obion's voice was bleak and Qui-Gon gave into temptation and touched the young man's arm, trying to reassure. 

"Highness, I do not foresee teaching any of you how to use a lightsaber. It would draw far too much attention to you."

"Attention -- like from the First Minister." Bleakness turned to bitterness, shoved down. "But I would like to learn those moves, those... katas?" Qui-Gon nodded reluctantly, and Obion continued. "They help focus you, don't they? I can tell you're grounded when you move in them."

"Yes... for me, sometimes, exercise is a form of meditation. Others often feel the same way." Qui-Gon shook his head, once again surprised at the acuity to the Force Obion showed. "But there are other forms that don't require a weapon. There are eight which are called 'open-hand' forms because they don't require the follower to physically hold anything." He took a deep breath, wondering, even as he spoke, why he was doing it. "The first form any padawan learns is an open-hand form. I'd be glad to teach you, if we can find the time."

Obion's head came up and he looked at Qui-Gon, full in the face. When Qui-Gon had first seen Obion, he thought his eyes were more green than blue... now, however, they looked more gray, deep blue-gray, than any other color. 

What he saw in Qui-Gon's face must have reassured him, for Obion nodded, slowly. "I would appreciate that. I'll set it up with our secretaries."

Swallowing, wondering what he was getting into, Qui-Gon nodded.

* * *

Not even his evenings were sacrosanct any longer, Qui-Gon mused with a resigned sigh. He warmed enough water to brew tea for at least three people, while he read over the latest information from the Temple. 

Alderaan was holding its own against the droid army of the Dhro -- so far. They wouldn't last, and the Jedi had been attempting to create enough of a diversion to allow the royals from House Organa to escape. The eldest son and heir to the throne, Bail, had been fighting to remain on the planet but it seemed his father had won that argument. There was still no sign of Queen Amidala, but that might actually be a good thing: the Dhro couldn't find her either. 

Mace Windu had found out about Qui-Gon's queries to the Temple Healers. Qui-Gon had little doubt that he could infer what was going on in the palace. He sent Qui-Gon a pointed note about not going native, whatever that meant, and a very barbed inquiry about the treaty, asking yet again for a status report on it. Qui-Gon sighed to read the missive: Mace wasn't so much an obstructionist as he was a pragmatist, and he had never liked the Sith. Qui-Gon knew he had to respond at some point, but wished to put it off as long as possible. They had all been too busy to do much work on the treaty anyway, though Qui-Gon had the invaluable help of Bellen on the wording of various drafts and codicils.

A tap on the door turned out to be Maul, not that Qui-Gon was surprised. The tea was just ready and he poured each of them a cup.

"There's still no word from Queen Amidala, but I think we can expect the major players of House Organa to show up within a few weeks." Qui-Gon handed over the crystals which contained the latest information. 

"That will relieve the Empress," Maul said quietly, tucking the crystals into his belt. "I understand you're going to be teaching Obion some exercises."

Smiling wryly -- Maul seemed to know _everything_ around the palace -- Qui-Gon nodded. "Like Ani, he was taken with my 'saber. But I managed to dissuade him."

"For now." Qui-Gon frowned in surprise at Maul's cryptic words. "Has he said anything about who attacked him?"

"Nothing." Qui-Gon sighed. "And I didn't expect him to. We don't know each other very well, Maul."

"Yet." The man's cryptic words were beginning to get Qui-Gon rather flustered, though he hid it as well as he was able. 

"You don't know who did it to him? You know everything that happens in the palace."

"Most things, yes, I do." Maul took a sip of his tea and placed the cup and saucer on the low table between them. "Especially where the children are concerned. But I'm hardly infallible, and Obion has been a grown man for some time. He and I had a fairly heated discussion several years back, when he began to learn about his sexuality and wanted more freedom to explore his possibilities." Maul looked as though he were suppressing a smile. "I still knew, but I just pretended I didn't. Now, though..."

"You have suspicions, I know you do." Qui-Gon stared hard at Maul. 

"Yes. I do." Maul looked grim. "As I'm sure you have suspicions. And I've been arguing with him -- when I can pin him down. But regardless, we cannot move until the principal victim realizes he is a victim." They both sighed. "How are the Force lessons coming along?"

"Very well." Qui-Gon finished his tea and poured himself another cup. "Cliadle and Obion are more adept than Aliamon, but not by much. Obion has discovered there's something 'wrong' with his aura, thanks to Cliadle's insights."

Maul lifted his eyebrows in shock. "He did? I mean, she did?"

"Yes. To both." They stared at each other in consternation for a moment. "I'm not sure what to do about it, either."

"Would it be a bad thing for him to learn the truth?" Maul was very serious about the question and it took Qui-Gon aback. "I mean to say, if he knew someone was compromising him, tainting him, would it set off any triggers the person might have planted?"

"Oh." Blinking, Qui-Gon thought about it seriously. "I'm not sure. I've never run across this type of... mind control before." Qui-Gon gnawed on his lower lip while he thought. "That might be a good question to put before the healers."

"I don't want to alienate him any further than we've done," Maul said sadly. "He's very upset with me at the moment, and it... bothers me."

"You couldn't," Qui-Gon assured him. The level of Maul's care for the children of the Empress was touching. "The taint is there, and yes, it might make him defensive, but I sincerely doubt it could completely change his personality. I find it hard to believe it could do more than..." _Cripple him psychically?_ an acidic voice in Qui-Gon's mind filled in. Ignoring it, Qui-Gon continued. "His honest love for his family and them for him may be his salvation."

"I'd like to think you're right." Maul rubbed his jaw and sighed. "Let me know what the healers say, please?"

"Always."

* * *

Qui-Gon hadn't been looking forward to the next meditation lesson, for the very reason he mentioned to Maul. The Temple healers had been, once again, of dubious help. They could not tell Qui-Gon definitively whether discussion of the taint would trip any buried triggers. Obion brought a book with him to the garden, passing it to Aliamon without a word. The irrepressible Cliadle asked him if he'd liked it.

"I don't think like or dislike are the proper words here, Cli." Obion's words were serious, but his tone was lighter. "There are things I don't understand in this. Like why we would outlaw the use of the Force, when it is clearly something we can feel. And why would the Jedi be held at fault for these 'Dark Force' users? Both the Jedi and our Sith ancestors fought Freedon Nadd and his kind."

"That's true," Qui-Gon conceded. "The Jedi and the Sith come to the Force by different paths, Highness. To the Jedi, the Force is something to be used, to be in communion with, to live within. To the Sith, the Force was always a religion, sometimes a harsh religion. The Force, to the Sith, was frightening at times. The Jedi, however, learned to overcome that and sought their peace within it."

"If you don't understand something, or understand how something is done, you tend to fear it." Cliadle, the scholar, was nodding her head as she spoke, but Obion and Aliamon were frowning.

"That's very true." Qui-Gon smiled at her insight. "It is the nature of humans to fear something not properly mastered. We -- the Jedi -- sought understanding of the Force in order to use it. The Sith merely worshipped it, then needed someone to blame when things went bad."

"All right, I think that's clear -- but why would my ancestors have accused your ancestors of causing the Dark Force users? Freedon Nadd wasn't a Jedi, he was a Sith." Obion looked as though he were on the edge of a precipice and wondering if he should step off. "Wasn't he?"

"Yes, he was, though the answer to your first question is much more difficult." Qui-Gon frowned too, ordering his thoughts. "It comes down to superstition, I believe. The Sith didn't want to... to manipulate the Force, didn't want to understand it. It wasn't a principle to them, it was a god. When someone suddenly begins to usurp your god for his own, turning it to his own, evil purpose, you need to look at why." Qui-Gon spread his hands and sighed, sadly. "The most convenient target was the Jedi, those who stubbornly insisted on understanding the Force and using it, rather than just worshipping it."

Aliamon was nodding, but Obion was scowling in thought. "That's just wrong," he muttered.

Qui-Gon shrugged. "I agree. But it doesn't change the situation."

"So, you're saying basically, in order to stop fearing a thing, you must understand it." Obion gave Qui-Gon another of his penetrating stares, and Qui-Gon smiled. His lessons were sinking in.

"That is indeed what I've been saying, Highness, as your sister pointed out." Cliadle blushed prettily at Qui-Gon's compliment. 

Obion nodded slowly, his eyes focused on something far away. "I understand." After a moment, he pulled himself back to the present. "Why did you say I needed to do this reading before we discussed what's wrong with my aura?"

Taking a deep breath and mentally girding his loins, Qui-Gon spoke, choosing his words with utmost care. "I wanted you to read about the Dark Force users, Highness. I wanted you to read what they did, how they did it... and what it appeared to be like, how it affected their... victims, and their victims' auras."

Cliadle gasped and Aliamon's jaw dropped. But Qui-Gon only noticed it peripherally -- he only had eyes for Obion, who paled. "I'm..." Qui-Gon could _feel_ Obion's panic, and reached out, both physically and mentally, to help. He heard Obion swallow hard before he could speak again. "I don't..."

"Obi..." Cliadle reached out as well, though Aliamon seemed frozen in shock.

"You're saying..." Obion looked around the garden, at Cliadle, anywhere but at Qui-Gon. "I don't... like... what you're saying."

"I know." Obion's arm under Qui-Gon's hand was warm. "I know."

"Who?" Aliamon's slightly shrill voice broke the tableau. "Who, Master Qui-Gon?"

Cliadle slid over to her sister and embraced her tightly. She seemed to be just as frightened, but was handling it better. "We don't know, Ali." Qui-Gon swallowed, wishing he had better words to say. "We don't know."

"We?" Obion dragged Qui-Gon's attention back. "Mother? Maul? They know?"

"Yes, they know."

"After the other day, then. That's when they knew. And when you knew." Obion's voice was bitter and self-flagellating, and Qui-Gon squeezed the arm he still held.

"No, I knew that first night. Remember? There was nothing I could say, though. Nothing I could do."

"And there's still nothing you can do, is there? I'm tainted, and there's not a damn thing anyone can do about it, is there?"

"Yes, there is." Obion's flushed face snapped up at Qui-Gon's firm assertion. "I can teach you, teach all three of you, to use the Force, how to understand it, how to use it to guard against those who would turn it against you."

"That's why!" Ali's voice was surprised but calmer. "That's why you offered to teach us meditation, isn't it?"

"Not exactly, my dear. You were truly in distress, and I wanted to help where I could." He looked between the young people, trying to reassure. "Your mother was the one who asked me, almost commanded me, to teach you about the Force, how to do what you needed to do. It was Maul who realized the benefits of doing so. This was not just me, not just a stranger from a different world. The decision was made by those whom you trust, and who love you."

"Like we do you, like you love us." Cliadle's voice was firm, but Qui-Gon could feel the remains of panic underneath.

"Yes." Abruptly caught in his own satori, it took Qui-Gon a moment to re-catch the thread of their conversation. "I've come to care for all of you. And I will do what I can to help you."

"But who is it?" For all she had calmed her voice, it was evident Aliamon was still badly shaken. "Who's doing it to Obi, and why?"

"We don't know, yet." Qui-Gon did not look at Obion, for fear of what he'd see on the heir's face. "And if you all learn how to guard against it, how to recognize it, it won't matter who it is, will it? Because you will no longer be vulnerable to it. And _that_ is why I agreed to train all of you. I won't have you vulnerable to whomever is doing this."

They sat in silence for a long moment, each caught in his or her own thoughts. Qui-Gon let them have the time, since he knew they needed it, needed a chance to calm down. After a few, long moments, he heard Obion take a breath, as if to speak, but a shout from across the garden made them all start. It was Terrell, with Obion's page Galer, calling for Qui-Gon.

"Bellen has sent for you, Master Jinn, there's a priority message coming in, sir!" 

Qui-Gon surged to his feet, frowning. The Force had given him no warning, but he still felt an urgency. "One moment, Terrell." He turned back to the heirs. "I think I must attend to this. I'll see you later, if I can. Please try to meditate for the remaining time and I'll try to speak with you before dinner."

The last thing he saw before hurrying out after Terrell was Obion's face, twisted in pain and sadness.

* * *

Qui-Gon was late to the staff meeting, but he felt it was worth it. He rushed into the room, bowing perfunctorily to everyone gathered. The Empress frowned at him, and to his surprise, he found Obion sitting next to him, across from Palpatine. Obion had always sat next to Palpatine in the staff meetings, and that worthy did not look happy. Not that he ever did.

"We've found Queen Amidala," Qui-Gon said as he sat. He passed the crystals to the Empress as he continued to talk. "She's been in hiding on Naboo, actually, and the Gungans have helped her escape, once the Dhro was occupied with Alderaan. She's on her way and should be here within a week or so, barring unforeseen problems."

"It is excellent news you have given us, Master Jinn." The Empress sounded happy and her eyes glittered. "What word of House Organa?"

"The Jedi are still working to get the ship with the royal house out of Alderaan's system." Qui-Gon took a breath and calmed himself. "Hopefully, it will happen soon, for intelligence says that Alderaan cannot hold out much longer."

"And just how are the Jedi working on this, Master Jinn?" Palpatine said. He was all but glaring at Qui-Gon across the table. "You led us to understand the Dhro was killing your brethren whenever they were found."

Qui-Gon made his voice as mild as he could, for all he wanted to strangle the man. "When one is hiding from one's enemies, First Minister, the key to survival is not being found." He heard Obion's very slight snort of laughter, but did not dare look at the young man. "Now that we are aware of the Dhro's antipathy of us, we strive to stay out of his way, working from behind rather than in front."

"That is something I've been contemplating for some time," Minister Toor said before Palpatine could speak again. "The Dhro has to be spread thinly by now. Would it be to our benefit to begin working on strategies to take back some of the worlds he has conquered? Catching him between the jaws of a trap?"

And they were off, debating strategies and reviewing some of the data about the Dhro's armada. He had two: an automated one consisting of droids and one manned with some kind of cloned human. The droid part would do the actual invasion, then the cloned army would mop up and establish the government. The _alleged_ tyranny... no news was coming from those worlds the Dhro had subdued. 

The meeting ran long, but Qui-Gon had made sure to clear his calendar after it. He stood as the meeting adjourned, gathering his datapad and crystals, wanting to speak with Obion but not wanting to be blatant about it. The Empress and Maul had left but Palpatine had come around the table and was speaking to Obion in a low, insistent voice. He kept reaching out to touch, but Obion kept managing to avoid the touch, avoid his glances. 

Palpatine's attention to Obion made Qui-Gon angry, which, in turn, made him frustrated. He should be able to release such emotions, they were not good for the body. Taking a deep breath and letting some of it go -- the rest he shoved away -- Qui-Gon walked to them and caught Obion's eye. "Your pardon, First Minister, but I believe his Highness and I have a meeting scheduled... in the gymnasium?"

Obion had far too good a bland face to show his relief, but Qui-Gon felt it nonetheless. "Yes, that's right. Thank you for reminding me, Master Jinn. Good day, First Minister."

They walked down the corridor, being led, as always, by their pages, and Obion remained silent until they reached the corridor to his room. "I'm dressed far too formally, Master Jinn. Allow me to change and I'll meet you there in a moment."

His voice was as stiff as his posture, but Qui-Gon could see the seething beneath. They separated, and ten minutes later, Qui-Gon was in the room, stretching, waiting for Obion. He came into the room within five minutes, still preoccupied, still pensive. He was wearing old, comfortable clothing, and when he saw Qui-Gon warming up, he did as well, without a word.

When Qui-Gon judged they were warm enough, he turned to face Obion full on. "The easiest way to teach this, Highness, is to demonstrate. You haven't been raised in the Temple, but you do seem to be athletic and I don't think you'll have a problem learning."

"All right," Obion said. He lifted his gaze from the floor to Qui-Gon. "Please, stop calling me 'Highness' when we're alone or with family. My name is Obion, to... to friends."

Qui-Gon swallowed. "It gives me great pleasure to consider you my friend, Obion," he said softly. They stared at each other for a moment, wordless, then Qui-Gon shook himself and began stepping into the first kata of the first form.

Obion caught on to the movements of the katas as easily as he had taken to Force use. Qui-Gon found himself nostalgic for his teaching days, as he did the katas mirrored, a reflection of Obion's movements. He would have to see the Seneschal about getting a larger work-out room, one with a mirror. Obion's regard was intense and focused, learning to anticipate the moves quickly and easily. Before the allotted hour was up, they were more than halfway through the form, and both were sweating heavily. 

"I'd forgotten what it's like to teach and demonstrate that form," Qui-Gon said with a breathless chuckle as they walked in tight circles, cooling down. "It's been a long time since I had a padawan."

"You have three of them, now, don't you?" Obion's voice was inflectionless.

"It's not actually permitted to take more than one padawan at a time," Qui-Gon told him gently, "and you are all far too old to begin training as Jedi. Though if it were, I would gladly take you and your sisters on. All of you would have made spectacular padawans."

"Really?" Obion gave him an enigmatic look. "I would have thought you were getting tired of us by now."

"Never," Qui-Gon said with a little smile. "Though Maisen..."

Obion barked out a laugh. "All right, I'll believe you then. Poor Mai. She means well, but we've spoiled her rotten."

"She'll come around," Qui-Gon said, parroting earlier words. "How did your meditations go after I left today?"

Shrugging, Obion slung his towel around his neck. "We didn't actually meditate, I'm afraid. Instead, we talked, and Ali is going to read that book." He glanced at Qui-Gon out of the corner of his eyes. "She's quite frightened now, you know. Which, I suppose, beats being a target."

A target? "What do you mean, Obion?"

He still wouldn't look at Qui-Gon, though he began doing some gentle stretches. "Open. Vulnerable to that damn... Dark Force user."

The bitterness in Obion's words made Qui-Gon's heart wrench. "Well, yes, knowing an enemy is there, being on guard for it... Perhaps that is better than being killed and not knowing why, but it is definitely exhausting. I hope my teaching you -- all of you -- to guard against the user will help."

"Do you think it'll help my aura? My... I think the word is 'tainted'... aura?" 

"Yes." Sometimes the simple answers were the best ones. "I cannot erase the taint, Obion. There are only two people who can do that." When he didn't speak for a long moment, Obion finally looked up, staring at him through pained and anguished eyes. As gently as he knew how, Qui-Gon continued. "A mind-healer from the Temple, and you."

They stared at each other for a long time, and Qui-Gon tried to fill his gaze with as much compassion and reassurance as he could. Finally, Obion nodded, and his mouth firmed into a line. "I understand."

"I am here should you ever need something, anything. I am honored and glad to be considered your friend, Obion, and I swear I will never do anything to make you regret it."

Wordlessly nodding, Obion took a deep breath and bowed, not looking at Qui-Gon. "I thank you for those assurances, Master Jinn."

"It goes both ways, Obion." When Obion glanced up, Qui-Gon said, "My name is Qui-Gon."

* * *

Dinner was strained and tense. Anikin and Maisen were once again absent, and Qui-Gon found it amusing Cliadle and Aliamon were seated together, near him, and Chun was again all the way down the long table. Palpatine was in high dudgeon and if looks could have killed, Qui-Gon would have been a melted puddle inside a minute. 

It was the girls who visited Qui-Gon that evening; in fact, they followed him back to his quarters and drank tea while they talked. Aliamon had questions about Dark Force users, and Cliadle wanted to return the book she had borrowed. They talked until it was quite late, then Qui-Gon sent them to their rooms, claming that, as an old man, he needed his beauty sleep. Both girls found that incredibly funny, to Qui-Gon's consternation.

It was very, very late, and he had been reading on the sofa when he heard a bump at the door. Before he could get up, it swung open, and he saw Obion standing there. There was a three-quarters-empty bottle in one of his hands, and his clothing -- less formal than what he had worn to dinner -- was askew.

"Obion?" Qui-Gon asked, walking to the doorway. 

"I remember, you know," Obion said, and Qui-Gon reeled back. The heir was well past three sheets to the wind, and that had to have been at least his second bottle. "I memrember what you said."

He lurched into the room, stopping and raising the bottle for a deep draught before continuing, finally collapsing on the sofa. "Obion..." Qui-Gon shook his head and walked over to the sofa. He pulled one of the chairs over, sat and examined Obion closely. "You, my friend, are drunk."

"An assss-tute obslurvation," Obion replied, taking another swig. "I am more than just drunk, I'll have you know. I am very, very, verrrrrry drunk."

Sighing, Qui-Gon shook his head and leaned back in the chair. "You are definitely going to feel like shit in the morning," he murmured.

"I am the heir to the Empire. I can feel like shit if I want to." One more swig and the bottle was empty. "Whoops! I need more."

"No, you need tea," Qui-Gon said. He rose, pushing Obion back onto the sofa when the young man would have also risen. 

"I don' like tea. Don' like it at all."

"You'll like your hangover even less," Qui-Gon said with a smile. He got them each a cup of tea and laughed when Obion's nose wrinkled up.

"Oh, all right," he said, taking a sip and grimacing. "But I still don' like it."

Qui-Gon managed to get a full cup of tea into the heir, who then slid sideways, slowly down until his head hit the sofa cushions. Qui-Gon stood and lifted Obion's legs until they were also on the sofa, getting him as comfortable as possible. Since he looked out for the count, Qui-Gon called Maul on the teleunit. "I wanted to let you know I've got the heir to the Empire passed out on my sofa," he said, softly.

Maul's eyes widened. "What? He's drunk?"

"Very."

Sighing, Maul rubbed his face with one hand. "There's a first time for everything, I guess..." he muttered. "I think... I think I know who our user is, then. Please try to keep him there tonight, Qui-Gon... I think he'll be safer with you."

But who will ensure _I'm_ safe? he thought but didn't speak. "Keeping him here won't be a problem, I think," Qui-Gon said wryly. 

"I thank you for calling me. I'll make sure the Empress knows."

After another glance at Obion, Qui-Gon walked into his bedroom and fetched a blanket, which he spread out over Obion, after removing the heir's shoes first. While he was tucking the blanket tenderly around Obion's neck, those deep gray-blue eyes snapped open, appearing far more lucid than Qui-Gon would have given him credit for. 

"I remember what you said," Obion whispered, and Qui-Gon recalled he'd heard that earlier.

"Said... when, Obion?" Qui-Gon asked, going to his knees next to the sofa, so he could look Obion in the face. 

"When you carried me to my bed. You're so strong... You said... you said he'd lied. That it shouldn't ever hurt." Obion's eyes closed and one lone tear seeped out.

Helplessly, Qui-Gon reached out and caught the tear, lifting it on his fingertip. It burned like acid, like desire. "It shouldn't," he replied, also in a whisper. "It never should be anything other than pleasurable."

"You know, don't you?" Though his words were still slurred, speaking them slowly and softly made him understandable. "You know... it's not s'posed to."

"Yes, I do." Qui-Gon swallowed hard.

"Want you... want you t'teach me. Show me." Obion reached out and grabbed Qui-Gon's hand. "Don't want it to hurt."

All of Qui-Gon's breath left him in a rush. He couldn't deny he was attracted to Obion, and had been since he first saw the beautiful young man. But there were so many reasons why this was such a bad idea, not the least of which was that Obion was the heir to the Empire of the Sith! Anyway, this was _not_ the way he wanted to... Obion had been hurt, so badly, had been abused and forced. He wouldn't betray his nascent friendship by taking advantage.

Although Obion was so drunk he probably wouldn't remember, regardless.

"I'm honored," Qui-Gon murmured, gently brushing Obion's red-gold hair out of his eyes. "Honored and pleased you would come to me for this, my friend."

"But you're not gonna, are you?" Obion said, right on the heels of Qui-Gon's words. "You... you're not... you're not like him, are you?"

"No, I'm not. Though if you weren't so drunk your breath could light an after-burner, I wou -- might take you up on your offer."

Obion found Qui-Gon's words hilarious, though his laughter turned to hiccoughs almost immediately, something he found equally entertaining. "I'm _very_ drunk," he reiterated, in-between chortles and hiccoughs.

"Yes, you are." 

"I'm so drunk that I don' think I should stand up. I don' wanna make a mess on your sofa."

"I think that's a good idea, Obion." 

The laughter wound down slowly, turning his expression serious. "This is where my father lived, you know." Obion's eyes were sad. "He lived here when I was very little. He was tall, like you." After a moment, Obion added, "I wish I remembered him better."

"I'm sorry, Obion." Qui-Gon was surprised to discover he was sorry, so very sorry.

"He's dead now, dead and gone and Mam cried." Obion fell silent for a long time, but then finally spoke again. "You said it shouldn't hurt. It shouldn't have. Rather stay here, with you, than with him, anyhoo. You care. You really care. I thought he did..." Obion's eyelids sagged shut, and Qui-Gon tucked the blanket around him again. Just when Qui-Gon thought he had passed out again, Obion's eyes opened again. "Not gonna leave, you're not gonna leave, you're gonna stay..."

"I'll stay," Qui-Gon said softly. He cupped one of Obion's cheeks in his hand. "I promise, I'll stay here."

"Thank you..." This time the words ended in a gentle snore, and Qui-Gon was certain the heir was out for the count. Finally.

He spent the night dozing on the chair next to the sofa, thinking hard, guarding Obion's sleep. And very early in the morning, when Maul showed up with medicine for a hungover heir, he also had a datacrystal for Qui-Gon: an urgent message to him from the Temple, one he knew was bad news.

Alderaan had fallen.

* * *


	5. Chapter 5

**CHAPTER FIVE**

Qui-Gon hadn't gone to breakfast with the Empress' family; instead, he spent the hour or so before his normal morning garden visit on the teleunit, arguing with the Council in a live transmission.

This was nothing new, of course. The Council always disagreed with him, never saw the same things he saw, never felt the Force's approval of his actions. They called him a heretic, said he was a loose ion cannon, kept him off Selonia as much as possible so he wouldn't 'contaminate' the younger set. It drove him mad at times, to know he was right and no one else saw it. 

They wanted to recall him, back to Selonia. They'd read his reports and had somehow gotten it into their shallow little heads that the Empire would not stand against the Dhro and would, in fact, cave immediately, putting the Jedi at risk. Refraining from calling them six kinds of idiot, he managed to politely tell them to fuck off with the promise that he would comm them again once he had spoken to the Empress over the situation. Then he killed the transmission, thankfully as Mace was opening his mouth to speak again.

When he showed up at the garden, Maul was there to let him in. This time, however, he did not stay at the door but entered with Qui-Gon.  The guardsman, Sarin, was standing at the door instead, and Qui-Gon wondered what was happening. He found the Empress on her bench, Obion sitting on the ground at her feet. They were speaking quietly until Maul and Qui-Gon came into view.

Maul waved Qui-Gon to the seat next to the Empress and when he would have protested, gave him a wry look. "Adi knows the truth of it. You talk, I'll pace."

Chuckling, Qui-Gon sat. "Why here?"

Taking a deep breath, Maul crouched next to Obion. "Obi, I need to tell him. I know how you feel about it, but..."

"No, that's all right." Obion's voice was as soft as a whisper, and he wouldn't look at Qui-Gon. The Empress put her hand in his hair, soothingly. "You're right, he needs to know."

"The man who raped Obion was Palpatine." Maul didn't stand, didn't move, left his hand where it was, on Obion's arm, and his gaze on Obion's bent head. 

"It wasn't rape; I consented to it," Obion said levelly. "I thought... I thought I loved... I thought he loved me."

"He doesn't, Obi. You were coerced." It was apparently a continuation of their previous argument, and Qui-Gon cleared his throat, stopping them from going further. 

"Obion, it's not consensual if you were under a compulsion, but that's beside the point." He looked at the Empress, then at Maul. "I don't suppose you'd allow me to kill the baseborn slime."

It wasn't a question, and Obion's head snapped up to look at him -- his eyes were wide and a bit bloodshot and completely astonished. 

"Speak to that woman over there. She's the only one standing between my blaster and the cretin." Maul stood and, as he had said earlier, began to pace.

"Maul, stop. I keep telling you..."

Once again, Qui-Gon spoke to stop an argument. "Why here? Why are we meeting here, and not in council, not, at the very least, putting the smug bastard in irons?"

"We cannot move against the First Minister at this time because his family will withdraw support for the Empire," the Empress said in a cold voice. "Else you gentlemen would be standing in a line led by me."

Obion swallowed and seemed to press himself closer to his mother's legs. Qui-Gon felt a burst of sympathy... he could only imagine Obion's emotional state at the moment: betrayed, coerced, and lied to. It was enough to make the oldest and wisest of men feel fragile.

"And the reason we're meeting here is this is the only place I'm certain is free from surveillance." 

"Maul has taken paranoia to new and dizzying heights," the Empress added to Maul's words. "It is something that has been a saving grace for us, several times, and a very large pain the behind at others."

Maul hadn't stopped pacing, didn't acknowledge her words. "Adi, we're going to have to do something. If he is a Dark Force user, who knows what he's capable of."

"We do not know that for certain," the Empress replied, implacable. She turned to Qui-Gon. "Can you say for certain Palpatine is a Dark Force user? Can you say, without doubt, that he is the one who has tainted my son's aura? We say Obion was coerced, he says it was consensual. Can we prove otherwise? To Obion? To Palpatine's family?"

Qui-Gon took a deep breath, held it, and when he released it, he tried to release his fury as well. "No, I cannot." He tried to send his sorrow over that to Obion, but the heir merely smiled sadly back. With a sudden resolve, Qui-Gon sat up straight, though he did not take his eyes from Obion. "We're ignoring a very important piece to this puzzle," he said, nodding at Obion. "Now that you know, now that you've become more attuned to the Force..." Qui-Gon let his voice trail off and was gratified to see Obion take a deep breath and swallow hard.

"I can recognize it and avoid it." Obion nodded at Qui-Gon and smiled. "I'll need more practice, and more work with those forms."

"And I'll provide it." They smiled at each other until Maul broke their reverie. 

"That's only part of it, though," he growled, still pacing. "Alderaan has fallen -- it hasn't even been three weeks! How could that have happened so fast?"

"You're forgetting the distances involved, Maul," Obion said. He looked much better, suddenly. "We didn't find out about Naboo until well after a month -- or was it two months? -- after it had fallen. Alderaan is closer, so we're hearing the news sooner."

"And the Jedi are staying within the thick of things, where they -- where we can." Qui-Gon glanced at the Empress, but she was miles away, running her fingers through her son's hair. "The Council has finally decided to only send paired or single knights out, and have recalled all the masters with padawans. Several of us have been trying to get them to send all the children -- initiates as well as padawans -- off-world, somewhere safe."

"And where would that be?" The Empress' voice was bleak. "The Dhro seems bent on controlling the entire galaxy, Qui-Gon. There will be no place safe for any of us, if he continues."

Maul suddenly stopped pacing, freezing almost in mid-stride. He turned slowly and faced the group, and Qui-Gon could feel his sudden spike of fear. "We've been so caught up in Palpatine as an internal threat," he whispered, "we've neglected the broader picture. What if he's in league with the Dhro?"

The Empress' face drained of color. "No..."

Qui-Gon swallowed and tried to calm and center himself, tried to release the sudden sense of terror Maul's soft words engendered in him. "We don't know this, we can't know this," he murmured, trying to convince himself as well as them.

"Then we must find out." To Qui-Gon's surprise, the hard voice came from Obion. "If he is in league with the Dhro, then not even his family can protect him. I will not tolerate that kind of treason in the Empire."

The Empress looked at Maul over the top of her son's head. Her expression -- her entire bearing -- showed how proud she was.

* * *

The meditation lessons became very important after that morning meeting. Since he couldn't cram the entire knowledge of the Force into a few sessions, Qui-Gon didn't try. Instead, he concentrated on the shielding and recognition aspects, hoping to give all three of his charges sufficient information to help them against Palpatine, or whoever was the one wielding the Dark Force. 

But first, there was the Council to deal with.

"We are recalling you," were the first words out of Mace Windu's mouth when Qui-Gon commed the Council after his morning meeting. "You have obviously gone native and can no longer be considered an unbiased, unattached envoy."

Qui-Gon closed his eyes momentarily, trying to release his frustration before he erupted. "I refuse the Council's recall," he finally said levelly. He heard a gasp from someone in the Council, but he only had eyes for Windu. "I have no idea what you're talking about when you say 'gone native', though if you're referring to being open and honest with myself and those I'm living with, then yes, I have."

Windu looked on the verge of exploding, but Qui-Gon raised his hand and continued to speak. "The situation has changed. I cannot speak of how it has changed, not on an unsecured channel, but you will have to actually trust me on it. I am where the Force wishes me to be, and that's all I need to know."

"You must bow to the wishes of your Council, Jinn," Windu ground out through clenched teeth. "To do otherwise is to repudiate yourself as a Jedi."

"Fine. Then I do. For I am a _true_ Jedi, one who listens only to the Force, not to a group of people who think they're doing the Force's will when all they are actually doing is imposing their ideas on others!" It was a close thing, but Qui-Gon managed to keep his last words from crossing to a roar.

"You are perilously close to a cliff, Jinn," Windu growled. "See that you don't fall off it."

" _You_ are not _here_. _You_ do not know what has happened, how the situation has changed. My conscience is clear, Master Windu. Is yours?"

Plo Koon, one of the few non-human Jedi and a long-time friend of Qui-Gon's, spoke up in time to derail Windu's incipient explosion. "Qui-Gon, you must understand our trepidation here. We are not privy to your information, and as you continue to tell us, the situation has changed. How has it changed? Does your previous inquiry to the Healers have anything to do with it? Will the Sith indeed ally themselves with us to fight the Dhro?"

"Yes of course they will!" Qui-Gon snapped. "And as I said, I cannot speak of the situation on an unsecured channel, but yes, it has something to do with my note to the Healers." He glared at Windu for a moment, then finally relented. "I will attempt to get an encrypted datacrystal to you as soon as possible with all the information I have to date. Her Exalted Majesty has offered amnesty to both House Organa and Queen Amidala, wherever she is. Does that sound like someone who is not ready to fight the Dhro tooth and nail?" 

"Get those crystals here on the fastest courier," Windu growled. "We will contact you later, _Jedi_."

The transmission went dead and Qui-Gon managed to keep himself from throwing the teleunit across the room, but only barely.

* * *

Maul was able to help Qui-Gon get the datacrystals the Council wanted off-planet and hand-delivered to the Council on Selonia. Qui-Gon offered to let him peruse the information before it went, but Maul merely gave him a crooked smile and shook his head.

With grim satisfaction, Qui-Gon noted that once the Council read his _complete_ report -- which included the suspected Dark Force user and the heir's contamination -- he was left almost completely alone. He continued to send them reports on the status of the treaty and they continued to send him reports on the Dhro's movements and each let the other be. 

Palpatine kept trying to get Obion alone, but between the Empress, Maul, Cliadle, Aliamon and Qui-Gon, the heir was kept busy and away. They still weren't positive the First Minister was the Dark Force user. But the taint on Obion's aura was beginning to fade, due to his own ministrations, and Qui-Gon hoped that was leaving the Dark Force user feeling frustrated and furious. Bruck Chun's pursuit of Aliamon increased, however, giving the Empress -- and Qui-Gon -- pause.

Qui-Gon's days narrowed down to interminable meetings and training, version after version of the treaty and constant requests for information. He met with the three eldest heirs every morning -- instead of the language lessons that Maisen was, no doubt, relieved to be skipping -- and worked on meditation, shielding and recognition. In the afternoons, he and Obion worked on the forms, which Obion was tearing through with an acuity that surprised Qui-Gon. And in between, there were meetings where the treaty between the Jedi and the Sith was hammered, as quickly as possible. Even the most Force-blind person realized the fire was coming.

For their exercise sessions, they had moved to a larger room, one with a mirror so Obion could watch himself move and Qui-Gon could see him better. He was proficient in the first form in an astonishingly short time, and Qui-Gon let him progress to the second. 

When he was being honest with himself -- an unfortunately rare occurrence -- Qui-Gon admitted it was a treat to be required to watch that lithe body move, be required to touch it in order to teach. As far as Qui-Gon was concerned, Obion was pure sexuality, sensuality defined; he moved with the grace of a feline and that, coupled with his purely masculine beauty, his intensity and his inner strength was enough to bring a Jedi master to his knees. As often as possible.

And he was off-limits, dammit. They never spoke of Obion's drunken request, and Qui-Gon figured Obion had forgotten it. But he liked Obion too much -- hells, he liked all of the Empress' family too much -- to take advantage. And there were far too many things pressing from all around them to even think about it.

* * *

Maul reported the incoming vessel to Qui-Gon, waking him up in the middle of the night, dragging him from his warm bed and sleepy dreams of Obion. The ship was a broken-down freighter but it was broadcasting signals which matched that of Queen Amidala's House.

It was given permission to land just outside the city, and Maul himself drove a transport out to meet it. The palace had a small spaceport attached to it, one that could receive smaller, diplomatic-type ships via a window in the particle shield. This ship, however, was far too large for that: Qui-Gon, Obion and the Empress had to wait impatiently in the pre-dawn chill for the transport to return, hoping it carried Amidala, dreading it might not.

It did carry her, and her small retinue of handmaiden-bodyguards. There was also a young man who was introduced as Panaka, her chief of security. He was badly wounded, held together with bloody bandages and not much else, and Obion called for Dr. Pfelling immediately. The two monarchs traded polite bows and soft words, then the Empress led the way into the palace, flanked by her guards and the handmaidens. The Nubians were dressed very simply, and except for the fact that Amidala's face was heavily made up, they could have been any refugees from a war zone.

The Seneschal met them at the door to a large suite of rooms, and Qui-Gon could smell the food already prepared for them. The handmaidens obviously could smell it too, and Qui-Gon was fairly certain the growling he heard was from stomachs and not any hidden animals. Matrin served them efficiently, making sure there was plenty of food for them before excusing himself.

The door was no sooner closed when the Empress looked at one of the handmaidens -- the youngest-looking one -- and opened her arms. "Padme... I was so worried, my dear."

The handmaiden's face crumpled as she fell into the Empress' arms. "Oh, Adi... They killed my father!"

Qui-Gon and Obion shared confused looks. Maul leaned over and whispered, "The real Queen Amidala. The bodyguards are also body-doubles, especially for situations like this."

Queen Amidala wept in the Empress' arms, with her handmaidens around her also offering sympathy and more tears. The story slowly emerged: one of daring, pain and sorrow. The young Queen's father had been killed by the clone troops as they tried to 'pacify' Theed, the capital city. His sacrifice meant Amidala managed to win her freedom down what sounded like secret passages through waterfalls. The Gungans sheltered her until she could find a way off Naboo. The decrepit freighter was the best they could manage, and it only moved slowly.

Cliadle and Aliamon came in a bit later, when things had settled. Cliadle, it turned out, had met Amidala before she was queen, on a trip to Naboo with her mother and father. She and Amidala hugged tightly, amid more laughter and tears.

The Empress used the diversion to speak to Qui-Gon, Obion and Maul. "We must think about how best to present this to the council," she said quietly. "Amidala's presence and her story of the Dhro's atrocities against the Naboo and the Gungans will carry far more weight than reports from afar by people no one knows." She sighed. "I hate the Nubian way of selecting queens so very young."

"She's a strong girl, da'mrow. She'll be all right." Maul's voice was very soft, and Qui-Gon caught an aborted movement to touch the Empress. 

"I know, I know. It just doesn't..." She swallowed, watching the three young women talk. "It would be like making Cli take the scepter."

It was a long and tiring day. News of Queen Amidala's presence rocked the palace and the Jedi Council, who were thankfully speechless in the face of Qui-Gon's report. Resolving to ask Maul to set up some sort of secure communications channel for him so he would be able to ask far more sensitive questions, Qui-Gon had to settle, for now, with hand-couriered reports. The treaty negotiations were set aside for the time being, while everyone pondered Amidala's tale.

She presented it before both the Empress' council and via live transmission to the Jedi Council, later that day. She had not brought much with her, but Cliadle was of similar height and build, and was happy to loan Amidala as many court gowns as she needed. 

Surrounded by her handmaidens, once again in her mask of makeup and with her hair in an elaborate coif, Amidala addressed the Empire in a room Qui-Gon had never seen: the enormous Assembly Hall, at the center of the public area of the palace. Floating holocams both broadcasted (to the entire system) and taped her speech. By doing that, the Empress hoped to raise patriotic fervor and hatred of the Dhro, but it also meant she circumvented her councilors and ministers, giving them little choice in the matter but to agree with her.

"Good people of Corellia, of the Sith Empire; the people of Naboo bring you greetings weighed with a heavy heart." The young queen's voice was smooth, emotional only where needed, and conveyed well. Her face was tightly shuttered as she continued to speak, her mostly inflectionless delivery actually enhancing her sad story of invasion, death and heroism. The people in the audience were almost instantly on her side. Qui-Gon thought it quite probable the rest of the system was, as well.

Beside him, Maul stiffened. Glancing at his companion, Qui-Gon followed his line of sight and saw the First Minister speaking intently to the Empress. They were both sitting in the front with the other ministers and councilors, flanked by the omnipresent guards who separated them from the commoners. There was an empty space next to the Empress and Qui-Gon knew it was his to take. He hadn't wanted to before, but now, he did. He almost felt he must.

He glanced at Maul and found the man staring at him. "What?" he asked.

Maul shook his head and frowned. "Nothing."

Qui-Gon frowned as well, but let it go. "I'm going to take my place down there," he told Maul, pointing with his chin. "It's not like she needs protection, but I want to know what he's saying to her." 

Maul nodded sharply in understanding, and Qui-Gon made his roundabout way to his seat. He was careful to come up to the area out of sight from the First Minister, and was able to pick up some of their conversation.

"...sure of this course, Exalted Majesty?"

"Minister Palpatine, you are out of order. Nothing has happened today that was not planned for. Your obstructionism is beginning to chafe."

"It is not obstructionism to care what happens to our world, Majesty! We do not know what we're letting ourselves in for, and I must object--"

Qui-Gon took his seat and smiled blandly at Palpatine. "The young queen makes for a compelling case against the Dhro, does she not?"

Palpatine glared at him, then at the Empress, who completely ignored him. His face suffused with what looked like inarticulate rage, he stood and left the seating area. 

"He's going to be a problem, Majesty," Qui-Gon murmured. "Regardless."

"We will deal with it as it comes, Master Jinn," she replied, also sotto voce.

When the Queen finished her speech, she received a rousing, standing ovation, led by the Empress who joined her on the dais. "The Empire welcomes Naboo to Corellia," she said, one of her arms around Amidala's shoulders. They were nearly of a height, which was surprising to Qui-Gon: the Empress felt so much taller to him. "The Empire does not welcome the Dhro." Qui-Gon heard both gasps and ragged cheers to that. "The Empire will never accept an invading force to Corellia. The Empire of the Sith has lived for thousands of years, it will continue to live for many more thousands, as a sovereign, autonomous body that bows to no one and nothing." The cheers were beginning to pick up steam as more people began to see which way the wind was blowing. "Should the Dhro wish to come here, he may -- as a guest to the Empire only. There will be no conquering force permitted here, in the heart of the Empire. We are the Empire, and the Empire bows to no one!"

Thunderous applause and cheers drowned out the few mutters of fear and caution. Qui-Gon could tell many of the ministers still had reservations, and he imagined the scene must be similar in the Jedi Temple. 

It was a fine thing to say. The Empire was strong and the Dhro was still far away. 

Qui-Gon sat in his place in the gallery for a long time after the room was emptied.

* * *

Amidala's presence and speech threw everyone off-schedule. Several times during the day Qui-Gon saw Jaydon Matrin hurrying by in the corridors of the palace, often with several people in tow, carrying various things. He looked harried, and Qui-Gon felt for him. 

He hadn't expected to meet with the older children that morning, but he hoped he would still be able to meet with Obion to exercise. As he approached the room they used, he heard voices through the half-open door and froze. One of them was Palpatine's, and he was alone with Obion. Once again, Qui-Gon found himself in a position to eavesdrop or interfere, and he chose to listen in.

Palpatine's voice was soft and aggrieved. "How many times must I apologize, Obi? I never meant to hurt you, you have to know that. I told you, I warned you..."

"The fact that it shouldn't have hurt is beside the point, Roberd." Obion's voice was firm and strong, and Qui-Gon smiled. "Even the fact that you didn't stop when I requested you to, or the amount of damage I incurred at your hands -- all of that and none of that is germane. The point is simply this -- I don't trust you any longer."

"Why?"

"Does it matter why? Roberd, my feelings have changed towards you, and to be honest, I have no idea what your feelings are -- or what they ever were -- towards me."

"Don't do this, please don't do this. I love you, Obi."

"I simply don't believe that any more, Roberd."

"How can you not?" Palpatine's voice was gaining volume and becoming almost a whine. "I know you know how I feel about you, Obi..."

"Roberd, it's done. We're done."

"It's that damn Jedi, isn't it?" 

"Roberd..."

"He's been _training_ you, you and your sisters." The unhappy, wronged tones had given way to anger and a kind of hurt jealousy that made Qui-Gon frown in confusion. "He's been teaching you how to use the Force, hasn't he? It may no longer be illegal in the Empire, but it's not exactly allowed either. You could cause your mother a lot of grief were this to get out."

In the long pause that followed that statement, Qui-Gon found himself blinking in shock.

When Obion spoke again, his voice was all low, hard incredulity. "Are you threatening me?"

Qui-Gon heard Palpatine's long, in-drawn breath, but nothing else for a long moment. "I would never threaten you," Palpatine finally said, softly. "I love you. I am merely trying to look out for your welfare, Obion. The Empire, I'm afraid, takes a poor second to you in my mind."

"Perhaps that's where we went wrong, then," Obion replied. His voice was still low, though it was less hard than before. "Because I cannot and will not put anything before the Empire. Not you, not my Exalted Mother... no one and nothing."

"But you can put that damn Jedi--"

"You exceed your place, First Minister." Obion's voice was plasteel, and Qui-Gon took a deep breath before beginning to saunter to the door. "Master Jinn and I..."

"I'm sorry, am I intruding?" Qui-Gon pushed the door open all the way as he entered. "I apologize for being late, Highness."

"You're neither intruding nor late, Master Jinn. Minister Palpatine and I were done with our discussion."

Palpatine opened his mouth as though to say something, but whatever he saw in Obion's eyes dissuaded him. Instead, he nodded curtly to Obion and totally ignored Qui-Gon as he stalked out of the room. Qui-Gon closed the door firmly after him.

"How long were you listening?" Obion said, giving him an inscrutable look.

"Long enough. I'm sorry, the door was open."

"I realize that." Without another word, Obion began some gentle stretches, warming up for their workout.

Obion went smoothly into the first form after warming up, and didn't speak again until he was three-quarters done with it. He was moving well, if a little clipped in his pose changes, and Qui-Gon could almost feel him releasing anger as he dropped into the light meditative trance the form required.

"Have you ever been in love, Qui-Gon?" Obion suddenly asked, almost startling Qui-Gon.

"Yes." Qui-Gon had a feeling he knew where this was going, but resolved not to avoid it. He owed it to Obion, owed it to himself, to be honest and forthright. "Once."

"Only once?" Obion frowned at his reflection in the mirror.

"Love isn't an acceptable emotion to the Jedi, Obion."  He tried, he really did, to keep the disgust from his voice, but it came through anyway. "We are told we cannot form attachments."

"That's right, you've said something similar before." Gracefully, Obion relaxed from the last kata in the form. "I don't understand."

"I don't either." Obion turned around and looked him full in the face. "There are many things about the Jedi Order that I do not understand, that I do not approve of, Obion. Because of my questioning of them, I'm considered something of a rebel, a malcontent." He sighed. "I believe in the Force, I put my faith and my unquestioning trust in it to see me through, see me through everything. When I was... in love, the Force said nothing to me that I could interpret as warning, or as condemnation. But then, to me now, love is long dead, so perhaps that's the Force's way of rebuking me for having the temerity to love in the first place."

Qui-Gon kept his eyes on the floor, but he wasn't seeing the polished wood beneath his feet, he was seeing the faces that haunted him in the dark of the night. The room was silent for a long time.

"Don't masters love their... what do you call them? Padawans?"

"We're not supposed to." Now, Xanatos' beautiful face rose up in his mind's eye. "We're supposed to teach them and train them to be proper little zombies who will follow the letter of the Code and the will of the Council no matter what, and you should not have given me this opening, Obion, for I don't know when or how to stop." He sighed and dragged his gaze from the floor to Obion's face. It presented a much better view. "I suppose, perhaps, I could say I've been in love twice, though my love for Xanatos is not the same. Was not the same."

"What was different about it?"

"I love -- loved -- Xani like a son, like he was my son. It was my disgrace and my downfall. I have paid a heavy price for that love, as well."

There was a little line between Obion's eyebrows as he studied Qui-Gon. He stood preternaturally still. "I don't agree with that thinking," he finally said. "I remember what Cli or Ali said, negative emotions should be released, because they just eat at you from inside. That's true, and I can see the value in it. But love... no. I do not agree with that."

"Then there are two of us," Qui-Gon said with a wry smile. "Except, of course, you're not a Jedi, you're a Sith. So, in the eyes of the Council, you don't count."

"Then I don't care for your Council or its rules. In my eyes, you count for far more than just a Jedi." Qui-Gon blinked at Obion's matter-of-fact tone. "Actually, in my eyes, you count for far more than any Sith."

Leaving Qui-Gon to gape at him in astonishment, Obion turned and began the first kata in the second form. Gathering his scattered wits about him, Qui-Gon tried to forget that extraordinary statement and go back into teaching mode.

* * *

Dinner was a stuffy state affair with Amidala in a prominent position. To Qui-Gon's surprise, Finis Valorum was also there, and he greeted the man with puzzled pleasure.

"The Empress has given me asylum, Qui-Gon," Valorum told him soberly. "Civil war has broken out on Coruscant."

"What?" Qui-Gon blinked in shock. "What's happened?"

His questions had to wait, as the Empress and Obion were entering. As it turned out, there was a meeting immediately after the dinner, in the large, silent meeting room, to discuss Finis Valorum's sudden reappearance. 

All the ministers were in attendance, including Palpatine, who glowered at the table but would not meet anyone's eyes. Amidala and Finis Valorum were also seated. The Empress opened the meeting. 

"Chancellor Valorum has returned to us with grave tidings," she said. "The Dhro's forces are less than a month from Coruscant, but there is already great turmoil on that planet."

She looked at Valorum, who took a deep breath. Qui-Gon suddenly noticed how gaunt his friend looked. "Exalted Majesty; your Highnesses; esteemed ministers. Coruscant is in the midst of a civil war sparked by the rift over how to greet the Dhro." Several ministers paled at his words. "Three of the more powerful members of the Consortium have decided to relent to the Dhro's demands and wish for Coruscant to become part of the Dhro's empire." Valorum rubbed his eyes. "They see the demands less as demands and more as 'politely worded requests' -- those are the words of Nute Gunray, the Viceroy of the Trade Federation."

"What, precisely, were those requests, Chancellor Valorum?" The Empress was frowning at Valorum. "You've mentioned before the Dhro offered totalitarianism."

"Yes, Exalted Majesty." Valorum took a sip from his water glass. His eyes were focused on the table before him. "The 'mouth of the Dhro' asked that Coruscant join the Dhro's empire, to become just another world in thrall. I counseled against it: I see it as losing Coruscant's autonomy. There was a vote held, and four of the seven members of the Consortium agreed with me. At that point, the other three immediately withdrew their membership to the Consortium and attacked the chamber."

"They attacked?" Mazen Toor looked positively floored. "They used actual violence against the other members of the Consortium?"

"I was one of the lucky ones, Mazen." Valorum's expression was bleak. "I escaped. Many did not. The building is not much more than slag, now. The Techno Union is very thorough: what they set out to do, they do very well."

"Inconceivable." Qui-Gon was obscurely glad to see even Palpatine looked shocked by Valorum's words.

"What does this mean for Corellia?" Minister Blelling, once more reminding everyone at the table where his loyalties lay.

"Coruscant is embroiled in civil war, Minister," Valorum said. "The Dhro will have his hands full pacifying it. Actually, the disintegration of the Consortium may, in the end, help you. It will certainly delay the inevitable."

"But at what cost?" the Empress murmured.

"I would not wish for Coruscant to pay it, Exalted Majesty, but my wishes have not been heeded."

"Chancellor Valorum, you are welcome to stay on Corellia as long as you like, as long as you need," she replied to his sad comment. "We grant you amnesty within the Empire, and an honorary citizenship." Valorum bowed from his seat, but his sad, weary face did not change. "It is time, we believe, to begin counting our allies and our strengths. Once the Dhro is finished with Coruscant, Corellia will be next."

"What are you intending, Majesty?" Toor was frowning at her.

"We must begin to take stock of our reserves, of what we have to battle the Dhro. The fight for our galaxy will come here, sooner or later, and here, it must end." She sighed, then turned to look at one of the people at the table, Minister Skora. "At this time, we ask for General Skora to take her rightful place once more."

The woman the Empress addressed was one of the few ministers or courtiers Qui-Gon hadn't personally met. Though he knew who she was, he didn't know her function or how long she had served under the Empress. She was ruddy and heavy-set, her iron-gray hair looked to be cut with more convenience than style in mind, and her hooded gaze seemed assessing to Qui-Gon. She spoke rarely, if at all, and she made the table wait for a long moment before replying to the Empress. "You're asking a lot of me, Adi. I thought I was retired."

Qui-Gon raised an eyebrow -- a very highly placed minister if she was permitted that type of familiarity. "You knew this was coming, we've discussed it." There was dead silence in the room after the Empress spoke, Qui-Gon wondered if anyone else was even breathing. "Will you work with Maul on this? Will you again take the mantle of commander of our armed forces?"

It was an obvious plea, though couched as formally as possible. After a few more moments, the woman nodded. "Aye. Though you haven't given me much of a choice."

"None of us have been given much of a choice, Dem." The two women exchanged sad looks before the Empress spoke again. "Maul will be working with General Skora, and they will be answerable to none other than the throne and scepter. Seneschal, I believe you will be needed to work out a schedule of--"

"Your pardon, Majesty, but I don't think the Seneschal's help will be needed in this matter." Maul's voice was bland and he looked straight at the Empress.

The look she gave him was like an ice storm on Hoth, and Qui-Gon blinked in amazement. "This will be discussed in private, Maul." He inclined his head, acquiescing to her demand. "General Skora, please compose a complete breakdown of our armed forces, and be prepared with a resume at tomorrow's staff meeting." She looked around the table, but Qui-Gon noticed she most carefully did not look at Maul. "If there are no further issues, this meeting is closed, and the subjects we have discussed are tabled until tomorrow."

Everyone save the Empress and Maul stood, and there was a polite stampede to the door. Qui-Gon found himself exiting last with Obion, and glanced back into the room as the heir closed the door. "What was all that about?"

"It's a long story, but Maul and Jay don't get along." Obion smiled crookedly. "I wouldn't want to be in there at the moment."

"That doesn't sound like Maul," Qui-Gon said with a frown. Now that he thought of it, Maul had never acknowledged Matrin, never spoken to him, didn't seem to even see the man. And whenever he'd seen Matrin address Maul, it was with a sardonic tone and posture.

"I don't understand it, but it's been that way pretty much since Maul arrived. I was very young and don't really remember; apparently they took an instant hate to one another." Obion glanced at the door again, then back at Qui-Gon. "If you have time this evening, I would... like... I would like to..." Qui-Gon blinked in surprise. It was very unlike Obion to be without words, and he fought down the urge to think it charming. With a wry smile, Obion finally said, "I'd like to talk. I'd like to hear more about the Temple and why you think the way you do about it."

"I'd be pleased, Obion. Any time."

"I have to pick up something in my rooms, but my schedule is free this evening..."

"Mine as well." If he didn't know better...

"I'll see you soon, then." 

Qui-Gon watched Obion saunter away, conflicting emotions chasing themselves across his mind. Could Obion be coming on to him?

He turned in the opposite direction, to see Terrell standing in the hall, waiting for him. The young man's gaze was not for Qui-Gon, however, but was concentrated with a frown down the hall, in the same direction as Obion had walked. "Terrell?"

"I thought I saw..." He shook his head sharply then turned. 

With one last glance down the hall, Qui-Gon turned and followed Terrell. "What did you think you saw?"

"It looked..." Terrell hesitated, then half-turned. "I thought I saw Minister Palpatine. It couldn't have been though."

"Why not?"

"Because I saw him go down the hall long before you and his Highness left the room." Terrell shrugged. "I must be seeing things. Will you need me any longer this evening, Master Jinn?"

"No, that's fine, thank you." They were at the door to Qui-Gon's suite. "A good evening to you, Terrell." Thoughtfully, Qui-Gon closed the door and went to the sideboard to brew himself some tea.

* * *

Qui-Gon was standing on his balcony, drinking tea when he heard the tap on the door. It was Obion, and he bore an opened bottle of pale wine and two glasses. Qui-Gon had to smile and raise one eyebrow when he saw the drink.

"I don't intend to drink more than a couple of glasses, this time," Obion said, pouring two glasses and handing one to Qui-Gon. "I think the hangover cured me of the wish to over-imbibe."

"If that were always the case, we wouldn't have any drunkards." 

Obion chuckled and lifted his glass. "There is that. Shall we drink to something? To friendship?"

"I think that's appropriate." Qui-Gon took a sip and nodded in approval. The wine was dry and cold and went down very easily. "Is Maul still in one piece?"

"As far as I know." They sat on opposite ends of the sofa and Obion put the bottle on the low table before them. "He truly loves my mother, you know. Actually, I think it's closer to idolizes."

"I think I picked that up," Qui-Gon replied, nodding. 

"And I'm certain she loves him... well, as much as she's able. He was the one, the one who found my father's killer." Obion looked at his wineglass. His face was sad. "He brought her -- Mother -- out of her despair. I think everyone was shocked when she became pregnant. It's a good thing she's Empress, it would have been such a scandal otherwise. Especially with him being not completely human."

Qui-Gon took another sip. "Maul is one of the most human people I've ever met."

"I agree." Obion smiled at Qui-Gon. "Ancestors know he's as fallible as a human, though I have to admit he's more often right than wrong. He's been much of a surrogate father to me." He paused and sighed. "I'm sure there are times when he doesn't want to be, either, but he's always been there for me, for all of us. Even when we -- I -- mistreat him."

"Every parent is mistreated by his child at one time or another, Obion. It's an occupational hazard."

Obion chuckled and his face looked the better for it. "Are you a parent, Qui-Gon? Or does your Order forbid that as well?"

"A parent only in that I've trained an apprentice -- two of them, actually." It was Qui-Gon's turn to look away. "A child would arise from a commitment, and commitments are forbidden to the Jedi. It is not our way."

"I don't know how you stand it." Obion sounded positively indignant and Qui-Gon blinked at him. "No commitments, no love, no sex either, probably, or is that at least allowed, as long as it's free of commitment?"

Definitely seeing the humor in the situation, Qui-Gon had to smile. "Well, there's always masturbation."

Obion laughed. "I suppose there isn't much they can say about not having a commitment to your hand." 

Chuckling, desperate to change the subject to something less dangerous, Qui-Gon said, "Tell me more about Maul. He's very..."

"Different?" Obion sipped his wine as Qui-Gon nodded. "Like I said, I was very young when my father was killed. Ali was just a baby. I remember things... but only vaguely, as if they were in a dream. I was five." He frowned into his glass and Qui-Gon noticed the little line between his brows again. My mother was utterly devastated -- I remember that clearly. You don't forget seeing your mother cry, especially at that age. She loved him dearly." He took a breath as though to continue, but hesitated for a moment before speaking again. "When Maul arrived, I'm told he was a mess. He'd had to fight to win his freedom from the Dhro, and he apparently looked it. He doesn't have any memories of it, however, which is inconvenient."

Obion drained his glass but didn't move to refill it. "He landed in a one-person escape pod, more dead than alive, during the mourning period. No one had found my father's killer, and the isolationist faction wanted to make Maul a scapegoat. Mother wouldn't let them. It's a grand old tradition in the Empire to take in strays -- witness all the refugees arriving and our largess at accepting them."

"That's a bit different, I think," Qui-Gon said with a smile. The refugee trickle was threatening to become a flood, he knew, and Corellia was far more welcoming than Selonia.

Obion waved his hand. "Maybe, maybe not. Anyway, instead of having him executed or deported, she took him in, helped him, healed him, and he repaid her by finding father's killer and falling in love with her." Still frowning, Obion's gaze was obviously as far away as his thoughts. "We never found out why that woman -- the assassin -- killed father, actually. She killed herself somehow after the first interrogation."

"That's... odd," Qui-Gon said, also frowning. 

"I know. I've asked, but no one really wants to talk about it, not even Maul." Obion reached for the bottle and poured himself a half glass of wine. Qui-Gon emptied his own glass and held it out for more when Obion offered it. "Mother made Maul into the chief of security, of everything, in a way. He's the main reason why Demmer Skora is retired, actually. She knew he was worthy of her trust and could handle the armies. And she doesn't give her trust easily, either. Well, none of us do, really."

"That's not been my experience," Qui-Gon said, aware his voice was wry. He hadn't wanted to give his trust easily either, and look where that got him.

"You slipped in under our radar, somehow," Obion said, quite seriously. "When Mother told us about your arrival, we were just aghast. A Jedi? Here? Ridiculous. Then we met you and..." Obion half turned, propping one leg on the sofa so he could see Qui-Gon better. "I'm sorry, by the way. For the way I treated you early on."

"I don't think there was anything you said I did not expect, Obion." Qui-Gon smiled again. "Besides, I don't think you were quite yourself."

"I suppose not." Obion sighed. "I'm still confused over that too. I thought I should feel anger at Roberd for what he did, but all I really feel is... well... numb. Sad."

Thoughts chased themselves around Qui-Gon's head and he couldn't decide what to say -- everything he thought to say sounded dangerous, leading. He didn't want to hurt Obion, but he didn't want to lead him on, either. Even if he did want to... "You were betrayed by someone you trusted," he finally said. "No matter how you look at it, it's a terrible thing to go through." After a pause, he added softly, "And it never gets easier, either."

"So Mother tells me." They were both silent for a long moment. "Sometimes, I don't want the scepter at all. Sometimes, I wonder what it would be like if I were just the son of a regular family, merchants, perhaps."

"I imagine that's a quite common wish, Obion."

"Oh, I'm sure you're right." The corner of his mouth turned up in a wry grin. "Isn't that a standard plot on the viddies? Poor little rich boy, or uneasy lies the head?" They smiled at each other. "I know some day, I'll have to kill Mother and take her place, but there are times I wish..."

"Tell me you're joking," Qui-Gon said, in shock. They couldn't still...

Obion looked confused. "What, joking about what, the succession?"

"You said you'd have to kill your mother?" Qui-Gon was appalled. Obion must have been joking, or perhaps it was a figure of speech.

"Yes." Obion looked confused. "I thought you knew. That's our way."

"Encouraging a child to kill his parent? That's barbaric." And inconceivable to Qui-Gon, who knew right down to his bones how much the children of the Empress loved her.

"It's tradition. It's how the Sith Empire has operated for millennia." That little line was back between Obion's eyes, and Qui-Gon could sense his confusion.

"Now you're sounding like the Jedi, espousing tradition and ritual above all. I thought you abhorred it." 

"Well, yes, when it's meant to control something obviously wrong, but this..."

"This isn't obviously wrong? You love your mother. It's ridiculous to ask you to do such a thing." Qui-Gon felt his anger rising and struggled to contain it. He couldn't believe the Sith continued with such an outdated, excruciatingly horrid tradition.

"It's not ridiculous, it's what we do. I would think someone like you would especially understand that." Obion's voice had gained volume and so had Qui-Gon's. 

"Like me? What are you talking about? All I see is someone willing to murder--"

"It's not murder!"

"Then what would you call it?" Abruptly aware he was on the verge of bellowing, Qui-Gon looked away from Obion and took a deep breath, fighting to regain his composure. "I'm sorry... You're quite right, I know better than to question what I don't understand." Qui-Gon shook his head, it still sounded barbaric to him. "I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry." They spoke in unison and both snorted in laughter and anger, a heady combination. "I didn't come here tonight to argue with you, Qui-Gon."

"Then why did you come?" Qui-Gon spoke before he could censor himself, and he wished immediately he could take the words back.

Obion wouldn't look at him, but finished his wine and turned to put both his feet on the floor so he wasn't facing Qui-Gon. He leaned his arms on his thighs and rolled his glass between his palms. "I came here..." He stopped and this time, his chuckles were obviously self-deprecating. "I came here tonight to seduce you, I guess. And I'm doing a piss-poor job of it, aren't I. I'm sorry."

Qui-Gon became suddenly aware his mouth was hanging open and he closed it, blinking his eyes in a combination of confusion, shock and wonder. "You came here..."

"I apologize, Master Jinn, for my impulsive and undeniably rude behavior. I'll not bother you again." Obion stood and grabbed the bottle.

Jumping to his feet, Qui-Gon managed to get to Obion before he reached the door, putting his hand out, touching Obion's arm. "You startled me, that's all, Obion. I..."

"If you say you're flattered, it's safe to say I most probably will hit you." Obion's face was twisted and his voice was thick.

"I am." Qui-Gon tried to make the words as gentle and accepting as he could. "Just as I was then. I'm very flattered, flattered and honored. I'm also... well, I'm also surprised -- flabbergasted might be a better word. I wasn't expecting..."

"And I put you in an untenable position." Obion swallowed hard, and looked down at the carpet beneath his feet. "It was ridiculous of me to presume..." With obvious effort, he lifted his head and looked at Qui-Gon. What he saw in Qui-Gon's eyes must have reassured him, for he relaxed slightly. "I remember," he said softly. "I remember everything you said that night. I wanted... I wanted to thank you, to... to... I don't know." He looked back down at his toes.

"I'm not sure what to say, Obion," Qui-Gon said, opting for honesty. Making a personal vow never to lie to Obion was one thing, but he was also afraid to tell the truth. "I'd..." He swallowed. "I'd be lying if I said I didn't find you attractive." Their voices had dropped to not much more than a murmur.

"I know that, I mean, I've been told that before..." Obion licked his lips nervously and continued studying the toes of his shoes. "But that's... it's superficial. I don't want someone on that basis, I want someone who..."

"Who wants you, who... loves you for more than looks or station."

"Yes."

"I understand, Obion. I do." When had the tension in the room become so thick? "We all want that, I think. Someone to love us, even when we're... even when we're bad, when we're being stubborn, or contrary." He hadn't taken his hand from Obion's arm, and the warmth of it threatened to burn him.

"But I'm young, right? I still have years to go to find the 'right person.' I've heard that enough."

"I imagine you have." Qui-Gon sighed. "You _are_ young, but youth is no reason to not find love. It's just that age, age and experience... well, sometimes it helps soften the blow when the one you love leaves you."

Obion's head jerked up and he stared at Qui-Gon, who realized too late his words must have been bitterly delivered. "They don't always leave, do they, Qui-Gon? Maul has stayed for Mother..."

"Forgive the meanderings of an old man," Qui-Gon said, realizing it was his turn to examine the plush carpeting beneath their feet. "I didn't mean that the way it came out."

"Not old, Qui-Gon." 

"Not young, either." Qui-Gon turned up his mouth in a wry smile. "Actually, you have had far more experience with love than I have, Obion. You have a family that loves you, unequivocally. The Jedi are my family, but we are not big on love, I'm afraid."

"Yet you love," Obion whispered, frowning up at Qui-Gon. "I've felt it. We've all felt it; I think that's part of the reason why we accepted you so readily."

Qui-Gon didn't know how to respond to that, not at all. He'd spent his life being a diplomat, an arbiter, not getting involved in the disputes he mediated but seeing them objectively, from an outsider's perspective. Now, though, he had somehow allowed the entire family to take up residence under his skin, and they were demanding he pull down the barriers he'd erected around himself, demanding he feel once again. It could mean the tiny thing he called his heart could shatter, and if it did, he didn't know whether he could stand the pain of it, yet again.

So he stood mute, an orator without words in the face of something too personal to let pass. Obion stood still as well, staring in his face as if trying to read his soul. He could not look directly into Obion's eyes, but when he would have looked away, Obion reached up and put his hand on Qui-Gon's face, gently turning it back. "You know," he murmured in something like wonder, something like compassion. "You know."

Nodding, Qui-Gon had no idea what he had agreed to, but knew it was so. He knew. Whatever it was, it was something both he and Obion shared, and yes, he knew it, knew it well. He stood paralyzed before the young man who could be his salvation or his condemnation, and so couldn't turn away when Obion leaned up and kissed him, gently and sweetly. He couldn't turn away, but neither could he respond; Obion didn't seem to mind, at any rate.

"Thank you," Obion said, gravely studying his face. 

Qui-Gon nodded again, still mute, as Obion turned and walked out of his suite. He hadn't said goodbye, though, and that gave Qui-Gon hope. A fool's hope, he told himself sternly, but a small part of him, the part that chafed against the barriers he had erected, rejoiced. 

The rest of him, however, merely wanted to hide under the bed. And that was no way for a damned Jedi to behave, now, was it.

No, not at all.

* * *


	6. Chapter 6

**CHAPTER SIX**

When Bellen had reminded him a few days earlier that Mummer's Fete was rapidly approaching, Qui-Gon had found himself amazed. If it was already time for the Mummer's Fete celebrations, it meant he'd been on Corellia for over five months. It hadn't seemed that long to him.

The civil war on Coruscant was still raging and keeping the Dhro busy. That meant they had not yet been approached by his agent, and were using the time as the blessing it was. Maul was busy with the armed forces and he and the Empress had arguments over the question of a draft for the Sith army.

The Empress had given thought to canceling the holiday period, but Qui-Gon understood her children had dissuaded her. They celebrated Mummer's Fete far more boisterously on Corellia than on Selonia, and all the children looked forward to it. Even Obion counseled against canceling it, saying the war refugees that had begun arriving -- more every day, from Alderaan, Coruscant and places too small to have a name -- would find it comforting to be able to celebrate something. Anything.

On Selonia, in the Temple, Mummer's Fete was the one time when the young people of the Jedi could cut loose; not that they did, exactly. Costumes, certainly; as long as they were made by hand and contained Jedi clothing somehow. Dominos and other masks were easier, but even in their revels, the children of the Jedi were restrained and polite, never dreaming of demanding anything from anyone.

On Corellia, in the sprawling palace and everywhere in the capital city and the rest of the world, children wore elaborate costumes and demanded presents from everyone they met. Most complied with a small gift consisting of sweets or small coins; the little bundles were made up weeks in advance or were available for purchase just about everywhere on the planet. Woe betide the poor adult who failed to surrender something when the demanding little beasts showed up.

There were also balls, as was tradition, and in the palace they were grand things, especially the final masquerade where even the commoners from the capital city were invited. The gargantuan ballroom could easily support a thousand people or more, and was the scene for the public ball. The smaller, private celebrations for just the palace denizens -- royalty, courtier and servant alike -- were held in a smaller though still enormous ballroom in the private area of the palace. Mummer's Fete was the time when rank meant nothing, and commoner mingled with royalty.

The only thing cancelled altogether were the traditional fireworks, which would have meant lowering the particle shield. The Empress did this even in the face of Anikin's pout, for, as Qui-Gon realized, she must have remembered the real reason for Mummer's Fete: it commemorated the last time Dark Force users were met and bested in war. The Temple had never indulged in fireworks, as it seemed too much like warfare to them. The Jedi remembered the real reason for Mummer's Fete as well.

Maul showed no physical injuries the morning after Qui-Gon's curious evening with Obion. Qui-Gon had become a fixture at the morning breakfasts, to his surprise and the children's delight. Anikin always talked about his dreams with Qui-Gon on those mornings, and Cliadle often wanted to discuss books she'd read or heard about. That morning, Obion was already in the room, sitting next to his mother. Matrin was absent though the food was there, and Maul opened the door for Qui-Gon.

"You're alive?" Qui-Gon murmured, raising one eyebrow. 

"I breathe," Maul replied, his voice dry.

"Good morning, Qui-Gon," the Empress said, smiling in greeting. "Your tea is ready."

"Thank you." He took his customary chair across from the Empress and most carefully did not look at Obion until after he was seated. He couldn't avoid it forever, however, and once he was fortified with cup and saucer, he forced his eyes up.

Obion's face was open and looked almost sad, for some reason. It brought back the memory of his own sadness he'd felt once Obion had left, and the desire that, oddly enough, had grown since Obion's confession. This was not what he had planned, not at all.

"Qui-Gon." The Empress was looking between the two of them with a half smile on her face. "I'd like you to extend the invitation to the Temple to celebrate Mummer's Fete here. I realize our excessively emotional displays do not meet with Jedi approval, but I thought it would be lovely for your children."

Blinking, Qui-Gon forced his brain into gear. "I would be glad to make the offer, Adi." He still had some problems calling her by name, though it was getting easier. "I'm not sure they would accept, though, with the Dhro being so close."

"That's another thing I've meant to bring up." The Empress frowned. "You had mentioned your Council was thinking about evacuating the children to a safer location. There is a mountain fastness that has been..."

"Adi." The Empress blinked and looked up at Maul's interruption. Matrin was just entering the room with a carafe of juice, followed by Anikin. "Not here."

"Maul..."

"Please. Indulge me?"

She made a disgusted noise. "I indulge you far too much. Very well. Please remind me of this conversation later, Qui-Gon."

Unsure what had just happened, Qui-Gon frowned and nodded. "I'll make sure to do so."

Anikin was making his usual pre-breakfast rounds, hugging everyone in the room. Qui-Gon noticed Maul was not left out, and indeed, received not only a hug but one of those strange brown fruits. For Qui-Gon, Anikin had another dream, but this one was far more pleasant. 

"I had a dream about Padme, Queen Amidala's handmaiden, you know?" Anikin said. Qui-Gon glanced at the Empress over his head and she shook her head, a tiny motion. So Anikin didn't know who she really was. That made sense, Qui-Gon supposed. He was still quite young for such secrets. What bothered him was that it was a secret still, inside the safety of the palace. He would wager that was Maul's paranoia. "For a girl, she's pretty wizard. I think she looks like an angel, don't you think she does, Master Qui-Gon? I dreamed I'm going to marry her some day."

The Empress' eyes were wide with shock as those words sunk in. Anikin was already off on another tangent, about speeders and the mechanics of hyperspace or something else altogether, but the panicked look did not leave the Empress' eyes.

Once Anikin was seated at the table and eating, as though he hadn't just eaten the night before, Qui-Gon caught the Empress' eye. "The future is always in motion," he murmured. Obion looked up with a frown. "Many of our gifted ones in the Temple say visions of the future are merely _what might bes_ instead of _what will bes_. While we should always pay heed to what the Force gives us, we must also remember to keep our minds firmly in the here-and-now."

"I take heart at your words," the Empress replied. Her voice was very low but Qui-Gon could hear it shake.

Obion waited until his siblings had eaten to sit down with a plate of food, and Qui-Gon joined him at the table after a moment's hesitation. He felt increasingly uncomfortable in Obion's presence, didn't really know how to behave around the young man who had been causing him so much consternation. He knew how he wanted to behave, but he would not allow himself such freedom.

Cliadle and Aliamon were chatting with their mother about the meditation lessons and the upcoming ball. Cliadle had offered her best ball gown to Queen Amidala, but the Empress saw right though that. "I have already ordered another one for you, love. No, you're not getting out of it."

She visibly deflated at her mother's words, but apparently knew better than to protest. Aliamon had a hard time suppressing her smile: she must have known about it and knew her sister wouldn't get away with it.

"I'll dance with you, Cli," Anikin selflessly announced. "When I'm not dancing with Padme."

"Ani's got a girlfriend, Ani's got a girlfriend," Maisen began to chant, and Anikin gave her a sour look. "Mam," she said, after sticking her tongue out at her brother, "Can I g--"

"May I."

"May I go to the balls too? Please?"

"Do you feel you're mature enough, and do you promise to remain under control and not make a fuss when it is time for you to leave?" 

"Yes, Mam, I promise I'll be good."

From the look on everyone's face, that statement was clearly treated with disbelief. A soft chuckle next to him made Qui-Gon turn back to his table companion, who had also been watching the family. "This year she just might do it," Obion said.

"Ah." Qui-Gon nodded and smiled. "Not her first attempt, then."

"No." Obion sipped his juice and turned his attention away from his immediate family, who were beginning to go over their schedules and schoolwork for the day. "She remained in her room for a week after last year's disaster. I'm surprised she's getting another chance so soon, actually."

Forcing himself to take the tauntaun by the horns, Qui-Gon swallowed and spoke softly, not looking directly at Obion. "About last night." A very quick glance at Obion showed him turning to look at Qui-Gon. "I think I should apologize for my behavior..."

"You have nothing to apologize for." Obion's voice was equally soft and not tentative at all. "It was not my intention to put you in such an untenable situation, and I apologize."

"If I have nothing to apologize for, then neither do you." Qui-Gon picked up his cup to drink but it was empty. "And I most certainly did not mean to start an argument with you. I just..."

Obion regarded him soberly for a long time, or so Qui-Gon inferred. He was still incapable of meeting those beautiful eyes, and was silently chastising himself for it. "Ask Mother about her father some day," Obion finally said. "And about her grandfather. I think you'll be surprised."

Qui-Gon was already surprised; he frowned and looked straight at Obion, but he had already turned his attention back to his family. 

* * *

The Empress asked Qui-Gon to come with her to the garden; Maul and Obion disappeared shortly before the end of the family breakfast. Captain Sarin escorted them to the door, then took up guard duty just outside it.

"Maul and Obion will be joining us shortly," she explained as they walked down the flagstone path to the center of the garden. "Maul has been teaching Obion about the security of the palace and the state of the guards and armed forces. It's something Obion must learn, even as I learned it." She smiled as she sat. "He's proven to be a far quicker study in such things than I was at his age."

"You asked me to remind you about our earlier conversation, Adi," Qui-Gon said as they sat on the bench. The birds looked to have been there earlier than normal, and only a few were left.

"Yes, I did." She shook her head with a rueful smile. "I take Maul to task for being paranoid, he takes me to task for being too forgiving, too open. It's a battle neither of us will ever win."

"Obion told me Maul and your Seneschal don't get along," Qui-Gon said. He cocked his head to better see her. "Why would that be?"

"I don't really know, and I doubt even Maul knows. Certainly Jay doesn't, though the enmity is mutual." The Empress sighed. "Maul has always been an enigma to us, maybe to himself as well. He arrived during a very tumultuous time. He was a bloody mess, was obviously not human, only remembered his name and looked absolutely frightening. But there was something..." Her voice trailed off and her face looked terribly sad for a moment. It aged her. "And then, of course, he proved his usefulness to the Empire... and to me... almost immediately, by finding... finding a certain person." She paused again, and after a moment, continued in a whisper. "I can never love again, not the way I loved Orrem. He was my light... he gave up his life for me. So, no, I do not expect to ever find that again, though I am lucky to have those who love me still, despite everything."

There wasn't much Qui-Gon could say to that, so he didn't try. Instead he let her be, in silence, remembering, until she took a deep breath and finally spoke again.

"What I was going to tell you earlier deals with the Temple's children. You had mentioned your Council is thinking of sending them away from Selonia, before the Dhro approaches."

"Yes," Qui-Gon said, nodding. "I would think they would try to send them to Dantooine, though I think that's less than a wise course."

"They would be as exposed there as they would be on Selonia," the Empress agreed. "As for alternatives, let's not even speak about Yavin."

"No, let's not," Qui-Gon agreed, raising one eyebrow. 

"There is a place, a mountain fastness about thirty leagues from the city. It was built by the Sunrider clan back during the evil days." Qui-Gon frowned at her words, and she nodded, divining his questions. "The clan still exists. The Kenobi clan have married into it several times; we can claim several strands of blood ties."

Qui-Gon blinked. "That's a... That's a rather interesting fact. I thought the clan had died out millennia ago."

"Nearly." She gave Qui-Gon a sad look. "I don't think we would have been able to celebrate Mummer's Fete with such enthusiasm had the bloodline died out. The Sith owe a lot to that clan."

"As do the Jedi," Qui-Gon murmured.

"As does the galaxy." The Empress' voice was grave, but Qui-Gon could feel her trepidation. "The idea that we may have another Exar Kun or Freedon Nadd on our hands does little for my nerves, I'm afraid."

"Let's hope it won't come to that," Qui-Gon replied. In his heart, though, he feared it would.

"Do you think the Dhro...?"

"I don't know." Qui-Gon took a deep breath and looked blindly at the garden. "Perhaps. Perhaps that's why the Dhro is killing Jedi. But I would think if the Dhro is the next Nadd, he would have started on this side of the galaxy, not the other." He shook his head in confusion. "I don't know."

The Empress nodded and swallowed. "If the Dhro comes to Corellia, which I'm sure he will, the mountain will be a place of retreat until the troubles are over. Not even Nadd could break into it; Nomi Sunrider saw to that."

"And it's large enough to hold our initiates and padawans?"

"It can comfortably hold close to a thousand people -- more, even, but you give up many comforts with a larger amount of people." As the Empress continued, Qui-Gon heard footsteps and voices behind them, signaling the arrival of Maul and Obion. They came into view as the Empress was saying, "...and I will be sending my children there soon, I'm sure."

"Send us where?" Obion settled gracefully at his mother's feet and looked up at her, tipping his head back and letting the sun play on his face. He was wearing a plain tunic in a lovely shade of blue-green which complemented his eyes, and Qui-Gon tore his gaze away before he could embarrass himself.

"To Mount Sunrider," the Empress replied. She let her fingers card through Obion's hair.

"I think it's a little early to start doing that, Mother," Obion said with a frown. "And I, for one, will not go. It will be hard to send Ali or Cli away as well, and Ani..."

"You will go where I tell you, Eldest Son," the Empress said, her voice very firm. 

Obion's jaw set but before he could speak, Maul laughed. "Adi, give up the idea right now. Obi will have to stay here, no matter what."

"Maul..."

"Mother, he's right. I'm staying. I'm the heir, and the Empire is as much my responsibility as it is yours."

She spluttered and glared at both of them, but they wore almost identical expressions of set stubbornness. Finally she turned to Qui-Gon. "See how I am abused, Master Jinn? And by my own family."

"I don't see abuse, here, Adi. I only see love." He smiled at Maul, then at Obion, but his smile faltered at what he saw in Obion's eyes. It was smoky and sultry and Qui-Gon knew he wouldn't stand a chance against it.

* * *

Between the increasing number of war refugees arriving, the approaching holiday and the tension over the Dhro, the palace had become a hotbed of activity. Servants hung gaily colored paper flowers and streamers everywhere, ladies carried bolts of material and finished gowns from one end of the palace to the other, and the younger children became ever more fractious. The excitement in the air was overlaid with a feeling of encroaching hysteria, which kept it from being, in any way, normal.

Bellen took it upon herself to get Qui-Gon a sack of treats for the children celebrating the holiday. She also talked him into wearing different clothing for the various parties, and to his surprise, had a handsome suit in layered shades of dark blue silk ready for him. Qui-Gon suspected the Empress was involved somehow, but Bellen wasn't talking.

To an extent, Qui-Gon wished he could avoid his exercise sessions with Obion, especially since their almost-disastrous evening together. But he could not: Obion showed up on time and ready to learn, and was devouring the lessons Qui-Gon taught with an eager rapaciousness that was stunning. He had worked his way through most of the unarmed forms and was showing a keen interest in the armed ones, which left Qui-Gon with a quandary: should he teach Obion the forms which needed a lightsaber or should he not? 

Besides that problem, he also had to deal with the Jedi. His Order had, to his surprise, accepted the Empress' offer. Along with a majority of the Council, they had brought all the younger padawans and initiates to Corellia for the festivities of Mummer's Fete. They arrived en masse: eight Council members, fourteen padawans, seventy-four initiates, several tutors and almost immediately, they seemed lost within the boisterous celebration. The Empress had set aside a guest house for the children and their tutors, a place physically separated from the palace and apart from the city, for privacy; but still within the palace grounds, for safety. It acted as a barracks for the children and their tutors while keeping them safely under the particle shield. No mention was made of Mount Sunrider, at least not yet, but it was understood the children would remain on Corellia even after the other Jedi returned to Selonia.

Mace Windu was, unfortunately, included among the Council members. Qui-Gon was glad to see his friends, but dreaded seeing Windu -- a depressing fact. They used to be friends. They used to be... well, lovers was perhaps not the right word. But it was better than the word Mace had used to describe it once it ended.

The Empress herself, along with her entourage and several ministers -- Palpatine was notable by his absence, and indeed, hadn't shown his scowling face outside mandatory meetings for several days -- met the transport from Selonia. Windu was doing his Old Stone Face impersonation, and when he looked at Qui-Gon, his eyes were ice cold.

He was gracious enough to the Empress, however, and followed her lead in addressing her directly and in Basic. If he found it strange she would greet all the Councilors herself, rather than through the intermediary of translators or sycophants, he didn't say. It irritated Qui-Gon that Windu didn't seem to notice the thaw in the Empress' demeanor towards the Jedi. Hopefully, she didn't believe all Jedi were like Qui-Gon, because if she did, she was in for a disappointment.

They got the children and their tutors settled, then the Councilors, each of them in their own quarters -- but not in the private wing, something Qui-Gon secretly reveled in. Windu was the last, and he held Qui-Gon back after everyone else had left. "We need to talk," he said, and Qui-Gon groaned internally.

Putting it off as best he could, he said, "Let's go to my quarters, I can make us some tea. I need to check my schedule anyway."

Windu frowned at him but followed. Terrell was waiting at the door to Windu's suite and bowed but mercifully stayed silent as they walked the corridors of the palace. "Who is that?" Windu asked, indicating Terrell.

With another internal groan -- he knew this one was going to be difficult -- Qui-Gon replied, "Terrell Benk is my appointed page, Mace. You'll be meeting my secretary, Bellen, when we get to my rooms."

"Your _page_? Your _secretary_?"

_Don't start, please don't start,_ Qui-Gon thought to himself. "Yes. My position as one of her Exalted Majesty's advisors comes with certain privileges. I assure you, they are needed. I would have spent my first two months lost if it hadn't been for Terrell, and most of what you've read about the treaty is due to Bellen's excellent help."

Windu didn't say anything, but the strain between them ratcheted up a notch. This was not going to be a pleasant visit, and Qui-Gon tried to steel himself as best he could. Mace had always known what buttons to push with him.

Bellen was surprised to see another Jedi with Qui-Gon, but recovered quickly. She rose from her chair before the teleunit and curtseyed when Qui-Gon introduced her. Windu barely spared her a glance as he stalked into the room, looking around and purely radiating displeasure. "Bellen, would you mind?" Qui-Gon asked her, sotto voce, and she took the hint immediately. 

"Of course, Master Jinn. Your schedule is clear save for his Highness' training. Her Exalted Majesty has canceled the normal staff meeting today, in deference to our... _visitors_." Bellen obviously had taken an immediate dislike of Windu, and Qui-Gon couldn't blame her. The man looked -- and felt -- like a thunderhead poised to explode. "I've got water hot for you too, Master Jinn, for your tea."

"Thank you, Bellen." Qui-Gon ushered her out along with Terrell, but with a raised eyebrow made sure Terrell would wait just outside the door, which he left ajar. He had a feeling he wouldn't want to be walking with Mace back to his rooms after they had spoken.

Qui-Gon set the tea steeping and waited for the inevitable explosion. When it finally came, he was surprised to note it saddened rather than angered him, which was, he supposed, an improvement over how he usually reacted to Mace.

"So tell me, _Master Jinn_ , do you have a servant to wash your arse for you as well?" Windu's voice was hard and cold.

Pouring tea into two mugs, Qui-Gon gave one to Mace and sat down on one of the chairs with the other. Mace remained standing. "No, Mace, I have a secretary and a page, as befits my position in the palace. I turned down a valet."

"Befits your position?" Qui-Gon noted Mace's voice was almost trembling with rage. 

"Anger is a path to the Dark Force, Mace," he murmured over his cup. "You might try calming down before you have an attack."

It was a good thing the cup holding Windu's tea was a strong one, or else it might have shattered and caused a mess. Windu stared at him for a moment then abruptly sat on the sofa, putting his tea on the table between them. It sloshed, and drops fell on the polished wood. "What are you playing at here, Jinn? I find you living like a king in the palace of the Sith, in a suite of rooms that defines decadence and with servants at your beck and call. Tell me, do you also have a harem of young boys to sleep with you at night?"

_I will not get angry,_ Qui-Gon chanted to himself. "I hardly think that's an appropriate question for the situation, Mace."

"I disagree. All of us have been wondering what you've been doing here the past five months, why we've barely seen any progress on the treaty--"

"I've been working on the treaty every damn day, Windu. Don't you dare go accusing me of not working."

"Then why haven't we seen better updates from you?"

"Because there's little to show. Not yet. But in less than a month, the treaty will be completed and ready to sign." They glared at each other. "In the meantime, I have been tutoring the heirs, sharing information with the Empress about the Dhro and making plans for the upcoming battle with him. Make no mistake, Windu, the Empire will be where it ends, one way or another."

"And I'm supposed to believe that, believe you're not just sitting here in luxury, eating and drinking and probably fucking everything in sight--"

"You are out of line!" Qui-Gon roared, his temper finally snapping. "Keep your damned nose out of my private life, Windu! I cannot _believe_ you would question my comportment here... this is _my_ mission, not yours!"

"You are a gods-damned Jedi, Jinn, you do not _have_ a private life! And I know you altogether too well -- this isn't a mission for you, it's a chance to roll around in the luxury you've been wanting!" Windu jumped to his feet to bellow at Qui-Gon, who had forgotten what kind of lung power Windu had.

"You don't know me, you've _never_ known me! Don't you go accusing me of the most abominable behavior because of your overwhelming jealousy!"

"How dare you!" Under his dark coloring, Windu was nearly purple with rage. 

Not letting him say anything else, Qui-Gon stood, shamelessly using his superior height against the man, and continued. "If you cannot separate your private concerns from your job as a Council member, then I suggest you find someone to take your place, _Master Windu_ , for if there is anyone here who has lost his objectivity, it is not me!"

They stared at each other for a long, silent moment, each one fuming, each one ready to tear the throat out of the other with the least provocation. Qui-Gon took in a deep breath and held it, counting backwards in Skakoan, trying to rein in his overwhelming fury. Windu was obviously doing the same, only with less success. 

"I want to see the treaty," Mace finally ground out through clenched teeth. "I want to see just exactly what you have been doing here, while you've been _working every day_. This posting of yours may have been foreseen, but it does not mean you can use it to unfair advantage."

Suddenly weary of the whole blasted thing, weary of Windu's jealousy, his posturing, his suspicious nature, Qui-Gon shook his head and collapsed back on his chair. "Fine, Mace. Fine. Whatever you want." Not even bothering to look up, Qui-Gon picked up his tea again and took a deep sip. The beverage soothed him, but not enough.

"And I want to know what the hells you've been doing with the heir. I want to know why you've been bothering the Healers and all about this ridiculous fantasy of yours over a Dark Force user."

"It's not a fantasy." There was a headache blooming behind his eyes, but he would be damned before he'd show weakness to Mace Windu. "I've been training him, teaching him in the ways of the Force--"

"The Force? That's forbidden here!"

"Not any longer." He would not raise his voice again, he would not.

"Let me make sure I understand this," Windu said, his voice a loud growl. "You've been teaching a forbidden thing, our one edge, to our arch-enemies, inventing pipe-dreams about a monster under the bed, and all this while working 'every day' on the treaty which was to help us against the Dhro."

"I told you, it's not forbidden any longer. And the Dark Force is not a monster under the bed, Mace." Idly, he wondered if he should be having this conversation here, where the Dark Force user could listen in. Maul's paranoia must be rubbing off on him. "Freedon Nadd--"

"Freedon Nadd is a name to scare children into behaving," Mace said. His tone had left scornful in the dust and was now verging on caustic.

Qui-Gon sighed. It really was no use. He'd forgotten how much he'd chafed under the yoke of the Council and their rigid ways. "The entire royal family is very Force-sensitive. I've been -- at her Exalted Majesty's specific request -- teaching them meditation and shielding techniques."

"What are you going to be doing next, helping them build lightsabers?" 

Qui-Gon closed his eyes and just gave up. "Mace, why did you come here?" Qui-Gon was aware his voice carried his weariness, but didn't care anymore; his anger dried up like a puddle in the sun. "Was it just to chastise me for nonexistent infractions or did you have a genuine purpose? You can't possibly have intended to enjoy yourself at the fetes, because the part of you that could have fun atrophied long ago."

Windu stared at him for a long, silent moment. His fury radiated from him, though he probably justified it as righteous wrath. Qui-Gon sat still, looking at him sadly, wondering how he could ever have thought himself in love with this man.

"I think I've seen enough and heard enough from you, Jinn. I don't have to stand here and be insulted by someone who is hardly the epitome of Jedi in the first place."

There was absolutely nothing Qui-Gon could say at that, because on many levels, he felt proud of it. Yes, he was hardly the epitome of Jedi, and he was glad. Glad not to be an automaton, a mimic who repeated back all the boring platitudes the Jedi called rules of order.

Before he could speak, before he could think of a way to get Windu out of his rooms and out of his sight (other than killing him), there was a tap on the door. "I'm sorry... am I intruding?" Obion pushed the door open and though his face was guileless, his eyes were glittering in anger.

"Of course not, your Highness," Qui-Gon said, rising once more, putting his empty cup on the table next to Windu's untouched one. Windu rose as well. "You haven't met the head of my order, Master Mace Windu. Master Windu, this is his Highness, the heir to the Empire, Obion from the clan Kenobi."

Obion did not offer anything to Windu, though he did move to stand next to Qui-Gon in silent support. For his part, Windu was nearly insulting in the way he examined the heir from top to toe. "Charmed, I'm sure," he said. Turning back to Qui-Gon, he spoke through gritted teeth. "I think I understand now, Jinn. I think I understand quite well."

"I'm pleased you do so," Obion said before Qui-Gon could even open his mouth. He turned toward the heir and blinked in surprise as Obion continued to speak. "We are quite grateful the Jedi were willing to part with Master Jinn, though we're sure his absence is keenly felt. He has become exceedingly important to the Empire, and we would be loath to part with him again, on any terms."

It was all Qui-Gon could do to keep his mouth from sagging open. Obion's words were as much of a threat as he'd ever heard, and completely astonishing.

Windu must have heard the implied menace in those words as well, as his face lost much of its arrogance and he appeared to be floundering. He looked between Qui-Gon and Obion, confusion and frustration obviously warring with the sense of propriety and diplomacy the Jedi had beaten into him over the years. Obion crossed his arms in front of his chest and stared at Windu. It wasn't a challenging stare as much as it was a drawing the line stare: Obion had drawn the line when it came to Qui-Gon, and he would not allow Windu to cross it.

"I... apologize, your Highness," Windu finally said. He managed to keep his voice pitched low but Qui-Gon was willing to bet it was at some cost to himself. "And I am pleased to hear of your acceptance of Master Jinn."

"Dark times can require harsh measures, Master Windu." There was no 'revered Jedi' in Obion's voice where Mace was concerned. He glanced at Qui-Gon and there was something in his eyes Qui-Gon didn't really want to think about. "The Sith Empire is grateful our brethren on Selonia are willing to give up one of their best in order to assure the reconciliation."

Windu's jaw worked, but he must have finally realized the danger he was in. He bowed, and when he came back up, his face was a mask of neutrality and his voice all but a monotone. "The Jedi are pleased the Sith Empire is satisfied with Master Jinn's presence here. We look forward to the completion of the treaty and the rejoining of the Empire with the Jedi." Obion nodded and smiled, though it didn't reach his eyes. "If you will excuse me, I should return to my room and unpack."

"Terrell," Qui-Gon called, and Terrell immediately entered the room. "Please show Master Windu back to his room." Qui-Gon turned to Obion. "Is there a page set up for the Councilors, Highness?"

"Yes, there is." Obion nodded minimally in reply to Mace's bow, and didn't turn until the door audibly closed behind Windu and Terrell. 

They remained motionless for quite a while, then Qui-Gon said, "How long were you listening?"

"Long enough -- the door was open," Obion replied, his voice wry as he repeated Qui-Gon's words from days before. 

"I know," Qui-Gon replied. He picked up his cup and Mace's, wiping the drops of spilled tea with the hem of his stola. "I'm sorry you had to hear that."

"Who the fuck does that asswipe think he is?" Qui-Gon froze in shock. Though he had heard the heir use the occasional expletives, Obion's vehemence came as a surprise. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Obion said immediately, shaking his head. "It's just... he makes Palpatine look like Maisen."

Smiling ruefully, Qui-Gon filled his cup again with the lukewarm tea. "We have a history, Mace and I," he explained quietly. "Between that and the fact that he doesn't think me much of a Jedi makes it difficult for us to get along."

"A history?" Obion sat on the sofa and Qui-Gon took the other end, reluctantly.

Not wanting to have this conversation, but suspicious that Obion would continue to nudge him until he talked, Qui-Gon sighed and sipped his tea. "I think I told you I had been in love once. What I didn't tell you was that it wasn't reciprocated... at least not in the way I wanted."

"Ah." Obion's reply carried a wealth of sympathy and remorse. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to pick at scabs covering old wounds. It's just that I don't like hearing anyone speak to you... I mean, well, not just you... I don't like hearing anyone speak that badly of another." His mouth twisted into a wry smile. "Mother used to say to Maisen, 'sticks and stones will break bones, but words will break a heart.' The invective I heard..." He sighed. "It's hard for me to reconcile thinking about the man I know you to be with the man I heard cursing you. You don't... seem to go very well together... and it's none of my business."

Qui-Gon had to swallow and look down to beat back emotion. "It's hard for me at times too," he murmured. "It's funny how people can change so much over so little."

"Not so little. I may be young still, but I know -- love isn't little." 

Qui-Gon looked up at Obion's words and was caught in the heir's compassionate regard. It frightened him far more than the thought of a Dark Force user or the Dhro. Those threats, he knew how to handle, how to deal with. This one, the threat of the beautiful man who was a son of the Empire, he wasn't sure he knew how to handle at all. Yes, words could break a heart, but so could Obion -- at least his own heart.

When had he become the fragile one who needed gentle handling?

After a long silence while Qui-Gon contemplated that odd idea, Obion spoke again. "I know it's early, but I thought you might want to come with me to the gym now, instead of later. Tonight's dinner promises to be a long, tedious affair, and I thought you might want the serenity exercise brings you."

And when had Obion become so attuned to Qui-Gon's state of being?

He took a deep breath and finished his almost-cold tea. "That sounds like a wonderful idea. Let me change and I'll meet you there?"

Obion nodded, and with a sweet smile on his face, he stood and left the suite. Qui-Gon watched him go and felt the last walls around his heart start to crumble.

* * *

Qui-Gon was limbering up when Obion arrived in the room, several minutes later. As he entered, he pulled a small, scuffed and much-used case out of the bag he usually brought with him; it had been wrapped in one of the towels. "I wanted to show you something," he said, and Qui-Gon could have sworn his voice was tentative.

He stopped stretching and raised an eyebrow. Obion brought him the case. "This is one of the heirlooms of the Wan Dynasty," he said. "It started, you know, with Nomi Sunrider and her consort, the Jedi Ulic Qel-Droma."

Obion carefully opened the case and lifted aside tattered, pale green silk. Nestled within was a beautifully crafted lightsaber. Prominent upon it was a round crest which bore the sigil of the Sunrider clan. Qui-Gon gaped. "Sunrider's lightsaber?"

"Uh-huh." Obion held the case out to him. "Go on, take it. I want your opinion on it."

Feeling almost sacrilegious, Qui-Gon gingerly extricated the 'saber from its home. The balance was extraordinary, and the workmanship exquisite. "I can't believe it's in such good shape," he murmured, hefting it.

"Nomi Sunrider was the last Sith to use a lightsaber," Obion said. "Her husband taught her how to build one, how to use it."

"Qel-Droma is considered a heretic and an outcast in Jedi histories," Qui-Gon said absently. "He married a Sith and in the Jedi's eyes, he became a Sith."

"Which sounds significantly better than remaining a Jedi," Obion snapped, then immediately grimaced in apology. "I am sorry, Qui-Gon, but I'm afraid the Jedi -- with one notable exception -- do not impress me."

Qui-Gon sighed. "I wish I could refute that believably," he said. He did wish that, with a sad, quiet acknowledgement that it wasn't going to happen.

"I'd like to open it, but I didn't want to risk breaking it. Do you know how?"

"Yes, but..." Well, the casing looked and felt almost new to Qui-Gon. Despite being over a millennia old, was in excellent shape. "Let me see."

The art of making a lightsaber hadn't changed for eons, Qui-Gon knew. If Qel-Droma had taught Nomi Sunrider how to make her 'saber, then it should conform to standard. Which meant the catch on the side should lead to...

He pressed and pulled gently and the case opened easily. Nestled within were the cradles that held the heart of the blade: two stones, one a deep, wine red and the other a vibrant blue. "I've never seen this before, though I've heard of it," Qui-Gon said, awed and enchanted.

"What do you mean?"

"Two different stones. We're taught to use either Ilum sapphires or emeralds, never anything else, and always in pairs. But this uses two different stones, an Ilum sapphire and a grossulite."

"The kind you mentioned a while ago."

"Yes."

"What happens when you use two different stones like this?" Obion's finger was delicately tracing the wiring from the cradle, and he cocked his head to see the power supply better.

"Well, first, you'd have to make sure the stones were of equal power and feel, within the Force. Ilum crystal is almost always Force-sensitive, but grossulites and other crystal have as much a chance of being Force-blind as being Force-sensitive. It can take a long time to find just the right stones, if you're going to use two different types. The output would be different, as well. Possibly stronger."

"But these are natural stones, yes? Not manufactured."

"Oh yes, these are natural," Qui-Gon replied, assuring Obion. "I couldn't imagine Sunrider or Qel-Droma using anything else. The artificial stones are a completely different thing, though I've never seen any. They don't actually resonate in the Force, I've read; the Dark Force users who used them forced them to do the same thing a natural stone would do."

Obion nodded. "I understand, I think. What color blade would this produce?" 

"I would think it would be a dark purple," Qui-Gon replied. "But it's hard to say without testing it."

"Do you think these stones are still useful?"

Qui-Gon closed his eyes and sought his calm center, aligning himself to the Force. After a moment, without opening his eyes, he let his free hand hover over the stones, let himself feel them within the Force. They were lit with a pure, bright clarity that took his breath away. "They're perfect."

He glanced at Obion in time to see a delighted smile spread across the heir's face. "Could I use them, then? Could I build my own lightsaber with them?"

Taken aback, Qui-Gon was equally stunned by the nearly overwhelming Force surge at Obion's words. The Force, it seemed, wanted him to help Obion build a 'saber, teach him in its use, show him how to be an avatar for the Light. He closed his eyes for a moment, overcome: he was no Ulic Qel-Droma! How could he guide this young man, so like his ancestress, in the ways of the Force, the ways of... of...

He already was. He had been doing so now for months. Building a lightsaber was just the next logical step.

The Force was singing to him with a disgustingly sweet melody and for the second time in his life, he felt frustrated with it. The Force blithely ignored his attempts at anthropomorphism and continued with its song, knowing he would follow, knowing he would have no choice but to follow.

When he opened his eyes again, he saw Obion's were concerned, and that adorable little line was once again between his brows. "Qui-Gon?"

To fight a Force compulsion is to invite madness. But madness seemed to await him anyway, so what the hell. "I don't see why not," he said, and even to his own ears, his voice sounded odd.

* * *

Luckily for Qui-Gon, the whole lightsaber question was shelved for the holiday celebrations. Obion had been right; dinner that evening had been an extremely stuffy state affair made even stuffier by the presence of the Jedi Council. The Empress requested the Council members attend the staff meetings so they could share information gathered on the Dhro, but that only gave the Sith ministers a chance to snipe at the Jedi, and vice versa. It had worked better when Qui-Gon presented the information, and the Empress finally, wryly, acknowledged that.

Maisen had, for some reason, been taken with the Jedi children and was spending most of her days with them. Everyone from the Empress to the Seneschal was puzzled by her behavior, but since she wasn't getting into trouble, they let it slide. 

Before it seemed possible, the first day of the Fete was upon them, and that meant First Night celebrations. Traditionally, Mummer's Fete lasted three days, with gradually escalating events on each day. The first night was for family, the second for children, and the third was always the grandest of all, and was celebrated in the palace by the huge, all-encompassing masquerade ball. 

Family in the palace of course meant different things to the royal house than it did for the commoners. The First Night Ball was open to all who actually lived in the palace, including servants, but it was still a much more subdued affair than the Third Night Masquerade. After a certain hesitation, Qui-Gon threw caution to the winds and dressed in the beautiful clothing Bellen suggested, rather than his standard cream and brown. He knew what Mace Windu would say, and was amused to find himself not caring a bit.

He felt ridiculous out of his Jedi uniform, but the looks he received as he entered the smaller ballroom made up for it. The Jedi contingent was hovering in a corner together, their displeasure at the excess of the Sith celebration apparent. When they saw Qui-Gon, the temperature in their corner took a nosedive. But when Cliadle and Aliamon saw him, their quite-obvious delight and approval more than made up for the Jedi's disapproval.

The Empress was at one end of the room, on a large throne; moved as needed, it was the only one in the palace. She had told Qui-Gon once before she hated the ornate, grandiose thing and all it represented, but it did come in handy when it was necessary to instill the proper reverence -- or terror -- in a visitor to the Empire. It was certainly creating awe this evening, though that might have been because of the person sitting on it. She was wearing a beautiful gown that perfectly showed off her creamy complexion and silver-shot, light brown hair. No jewels, however, though Qui-Gon knew there were heirlooms to her royal house. She should have been dwarfed by her massive seat; instead, she seemed to effortlessly fill it, claim it as her own.

"You look positively ravishing tonight, Qui-Gon," she said as he paid his duty to her. Her eyes were sparkling with amusement as she looked him up and down.

"I feel rather ridiculous, to be honest," he told her, and she laughed. "Something tells me my secretary was not the sole conspirator in this mystery, however. Especially since everything fits perfectly."

"I'm pleased it does," she replied, neatly sidestepping the issue, the corners of her mouth twitching. "Ah... here comes Obion."

Qui-Gon turned and immediately forgot how to breathe. Obion was wearing a suit much like Qui-Gon's, only in an exquisite shade of blue-green that set his eyes and coloring off. His suit was the match for Aliamon's gown, in fact, and Qui-Gon was hard-pressed to determine which heir was the more beautiful.

Obion paused in his journey across the dance floor -- the musicians were just warming up -- and he blinked as he saw Qui-Gon. The heat in his eyes was unmistakable as he finished his journey, and Qui-Gon felt he might be burned by it.

"Exalted Mother." Obion bowed to his mother, and she smiled proudly.

"Eldest Son. Please perform your duty to the family."

"As it is your wish, Exalted Mother, it is mine to execute." He turned and signaled to the conductor, who had been watching, and immediately the band struck up a lively reel. Obion turned to Qui-Gon and bowed. His mouth was also twitching as he looked Qui-Gon up and down, and Qui-Gon knew he was in deep trouble. "May I have the first dance, Master Jinn?"

Swallowing his trepidation, Qui-Gon nodded and took Obion's hand.

The song was cheerful and fast, but they were alone on the dance floor until the long first measure had been played. Obion led with confidence and Qui-Gon tried to keep from staring at the man in his arms, finding it difficult to do. Once others began to join them on the floor, it became easier. Obion pointed out Anikin dancing with Padme, and they both smiled. Ali was dancing with Bruck Chun, which worried Qui-Gon, though she appeared to be handling the boy's attention well. He looked for Terrell -- he had hoped to match his page with Aliamon at some point. Maisen was spending the evening with the Jedi children again, and all the older heirs appeared to be grateful for the reprieve.

The dance ended and Obion bowed to him. "It is time for my duty to my family, Master Jinn, but I would like another dance with you, soon."

Qui-Gon bowed back, hoping his face didn't reflect his intense feelings. "It would be my pleasure, your Highness." And it would be a pleasure to him... holding Obion in his arms was beyond anything Qui-Gon had ever experienced.

Yes, he had it bad... very bad.

Obion walked to his mother and gallantly held out his hand as the band continued to play. Cliadle claimed Qui-Gon, and the evening passed in a swirl of color, music, laughter and Qui-Gon was mildly surprised to realize how much fun he was having. 

The Jedi refused all offers of dancing, which seemed ludicrous to Qui-Gon. Had this been another court, another world, had the Jedi been there for diplomatic reasons not directly involving the Order, they would have had no trouble dancing with the locals. But Qui-Gon realized the only reason they were refusing here was that it was the court of the Sith Empire. They were allowing their prejudices to show, and he found it disgusting.

The Empress was being attended by her Seneschal; Maul was nowhere in sight. During one of the slower pavanes, Qui-Gon asked for a dance and she graciously allowed it. He ushered her around the floor, the steps of the stately dance as familiar as breathing to him. "Where's Maul?" he asked her as they moved together.

"He... well, he feels his physical presence would be a damper on the festivities, though he is always close by," she said lightly, though her eyes were sad. "I cannot convince him otherwise."

"Ah." Maul wasn't quite as self-assured as he seemed, then. "That's unfortunate. I miss him here."

"I as well." They continued to move through the now-crowded floor. "I am sorry the Jedi do not seem to be enjoying themselves," she said, as the dance took them near where the Jedi sat. Mace Windu's face was frozen in a glower.

"It's their loss, Majesty. We cannot force them to have a good time."

"Well said, Master Jinn." The music ended; she answered his bow with a deep curtsey.

"May I get you something to drink, Majesty?" he asked, as he escorted her back to the throne.

"I would say yes save for the fact that my son seems intent on claiming you for another dance." Obion was on an intercept course, and indeed held his hand out to Qui-Gon.

The band was playing a beautiful waltz, and there was no way he was turning the heir to the Empire down, it wouldn't be diplomatic at all. He accepted the request as graciously as he could.

"I'm weary of leading... will you take it?" Obion asked as they joined hands.

"Certainly," he replied. 

He might not have been leading, but Obion was certainly steering them gently towards the open doors to the large patio which looked over the huge public garden in front of the palace. It was cooler outside, and revels could be heard in the city as the First Night celebrations continued. The music ended but Obion stayed near him, taking his arm and moving to the balustrade.

"I just need a break," Obion said as Qui-Gon looked at him. "You look wonderful, by the way."

"Thank you." It was a good thing the light spilling from the ballroom wasn't sufficient to show Qui-Gon's face clearly. "And thank you for the dance... for both of them."

"Thank you." They moved to one dark end of the large balcony, leaned on the edge of the low wall and looked out at the city. The swirling, multicolored glow from the particle shield cast odd shadows, and though it still hid the stars, Qui-Gon found he was becoming used to it. 

"I've often wondered what it would be like growing up in a place where you could see the stars by just looking out a window," Obion mused, staring up. "The shield is as much a part of us as the palace is, but there are times..."

"You can see them any time you want on Selonia," Qui-Gon murmured, also staring at the shuttered sky, "but I'm beginning to find I would have rather grown up here, without them." 

"You give up much to become a Jedi, don't you?" Obion asked softly.

"Yes." Qui-Gon swallowed. "Sometimes I think it's too much." 

They stood in silence for a long time. The band began playing faster songs, and the light and laughter from the ballroom floor made Qui-Gon smile. Not even the Jedi disapproval could ruin this evening for him. The Force was almost a living, palpable thing in all this happiness and joy, but the Jedi would never know that, would rather ignore it than acknowledge it. Happiness was just another emotion to be released, and joy something others got to feel, not the Jedi. Qui-Gon had a sudden, mind-bending thought: who could be considered closer to the true Force, the Jedi or the Sith?

He was afraid he knew the answer to that, and wasn't sure he could acknowledge it.

"Qui-Gon..." Obion was looking up at him, a half-smile on his face. "I wanted..." 

Qui-Gon looked down and was immediately snared in a blue-gray regard. "Obion?" His mouth went dry. In the glow from the ballroom and the sky, Obion looked almost ethereal.

Obion took a deep breath as if to speak, then blinked, almost in surprise. He reached his hand up instead, tangled it in Qui-Gon's hair and tugged on the back of his neck, gently. Qui-Gon could no more have refused that light nudge than he could have stopped breathing.

Just before their lips met, Obion breathed, "Yes."

Qui-Gon didn't want to close his eyes. He wanted to watch, wanted to see and catalog and remember not just the taste (the wonderful, incredible taste) but the feel, the look, as well. He wanted to breathe Obion's air and crawl inside Obion's skin to take up residence, as Obion had taken up residence in his.

Their first touch was tentative, gentle and quick; then they both licked their lips and fell together again, more firmly. Obion took a half step forward and Qui-Gon lifted one hand to Obion's face, letting his long fingers run through silky hair while his other hand wrapped around Obion's waist. His eyelids sagged shut as he tasted Obion's mouth, as Obion latched his other hand onto Qui-Gon's shirt and tugged them even closer. One of them moaned, softly, but Qui-Gon had no idea which one it was.

Sinking into Obion's mouth was a revelation, a dream come true. Qui-Gon wanted this one moment to become forever, where he could always be standing in the warm darkness with his arms around and his lips attached to Obion. Their auras glowed and merged as the world tipped beneath them, and Obion's tongue politely asked for entrance in Qui-Gon's mouth, gently insinuating itself not only into Qui-Gon's mouth but right into his soul.

So caught up he was in the kiss, in the feel and taste of the young man who he was startled to discover lived in his heart, he nearly missed the warning shriek of the Force. They both must have felt it at the same time, for they broke apart, gasping, and looked around in confusion.

"I knew it was him." From deep in the shadows of the balcony, the trembling voice of Minister Palpatine preceded him. He was carrying a blaster, and Qui-Gon immediately stepped in front of Obion, mentally cursing the fact that he had left his 'saber in his room. "I knew he was the one who took you from me. I knew it. Damned Jedi. There's a reason why the Sith hate the Jedi."

"Roberd, stop." Obion's voice was much steadier than Palpatine's. "Qui-Gon has nothing to do with us. You're being ridiculous."

"I love you, Obi!" Palpatine's aura carried extreme confusion and emotional pain, and it gave Qui-Gon pause. It did not feel like the aura of someone who was in control, or even someone who desired control, like a Dark Force user. It felt more like the aura of someone who was actually _under_ control, which was far more frightening. "And to prove it, I'm going to kill him, and then we can be together again."

"No, you're not. Roberd, you do this and I will behead you myself. Put that weapon down."

"No, you'll see how much you love me once he's gone. My master has promised. You'll see."

Time slowed down to a crawl, allowing Qui-Gon to see everything clearly. Though Obion tried to push Qui-Gon out of the way, he planted his feet and stood firm; he was expendable, the heir to the Sith Empire was not. He watched, bemused, as Palpatine's finger tightened on the trigger, heard Obion's shout, then heard the familiar snap-hiss-hum of a lightsaber, even as the bolt left the blaster.

A vibrant blue blade cut across the small distance between Roberd Palpatine and Qui-Gon Jinn, deflecting the bolt back to its origin. Palpatine took it in the shoulder and crumpled with a cry that seemed incredibly loud in the sudden silence -- the band had stopped playing, apparently. 

Qui-Gon blinked as time once again began to flow normally. He looked at the bright blade in front of him, following it to a black, oddly long handle, and from there to the black-gloved hand wielding it. "I had a feeling he was going to do something like this," Maul said calmly.

* * *


	7. Chapter 7

**CHAPTER SEVEN**

The Empress would not let anything stop the festivities, which meant once Palpatine was removed to his room under the care of Dr. Pfelling, she returned and the party continued. Most of the revelers hadn't even noticed what had happened. Maul, Obion and Qui-Gon waited in Palpatine's outer room for the doctor's report.

Qui-Gon was still in shock. "You have a lightsaber," he kept saying to Maul, who finally had to chuckle at Qui-Gon's incredulous tone.

"Yes, though I don't use it very often." Maul held it out. It looked like a very slender, very long 'saber, save for the extra buttons and the color: matte black. "It's actually a lightstaff." He made sure no one was in the way and ignited first one end, then the other. 

Completely flabbergasted, Qui-Gon shook his head. "I've never seen the like. Ilum sapphires?"

"Yes, three of them, though I only found that out after I got here and started doing research." Maul keyed off the lightstaff and shook his head. "I wish I remembered more about my past," he muttered.

Dr. Pfelling came out of the bedroom before Qui-Gon could respond to that statement. "He's going to be fine. I have him under sedation."

"He'll have to be moved to the dungeon," Obion said. "Is he up to that?"

"Yes, he will be, should be by the morning. He'll be out until then, I've seen to that. He's lost some blood, but I don't foresee any problems."

"I'll have two of my men stationed here tonight, to make sure nothing happens." Maul nodded to the doctor as he approached the teleunit. "Thank you."

"My pleasure, Maul. Please call me if you need me." 

The three of them watched as Dr. Pfelling left, then Obion grabbed Qui-Gon's arm. "Don't ever do that again," he growled, and Qui-Gon realized with a start Obion was shaking. Maul turned and looked at them curiously as Qui-Gon spoke.

"Obion? What...?"

"You were going to let him shoot you... you were going to stand there and let that bastard shoot you. Don't you ever, _ever_..." Abruptly, Obion pulled Qui-Gon into a tight embrace, and Qui-Gon found himself giving as much as he was getting. "You said you wouldn't leave," Obion muttered. "Promise me."

"Obion..." Qui-Gon closed his eyes and buried his face in Obion's hair. "You're the heir to the Empire. Your life is far more important than that of one old, heretical Jedi."

"Not to me."

Their tight embrace lasted long, silent moments before they found the strength to end it. Maul let them have the time, and when Obion finally moved away, he put his hands on both their shoulders. "It'll be all right, Obi," he murmured. He glanced between them. "But right now I need the two of you to think about that lunatic in there." Turning more towards Qui-Gon, Maul added, "He's not the Dark Force user, is he?"

"No, I don't think so." 

Obion, who kept one arm tightly around Qui-Gon's waist, gaped at the two men. "He's _not_?"

"I'd like to get my friend Plo Koon in here, to examine Palpatine, to make sure I'm right. He's the strongest of the Jedi at reading and interpreting auras, as well as mind control." Qui-Gon looked down at Obion and decided not to say how wonderful Obion's arm around his waist felt. Maul was right, they needed to focus. "He might be able to tell us more."

Maul nodded. "Do you want to go get him or would you prefer I send a page?" 

What Qui-Gon preferred was to stay right where he was and sink into Obion for the rest of his life, but that wasn't an option at the moment. "He may respond better to a summons from a page."

Maul just nodded and made another call on the teleunit. Obion's arm tightened, and Obion opened his mouth to speak. Before he could utter a word, however, Bruck Chun burst into the room. "What happened? Where is he?"

The young man was almost frantic. Qui-Gon put out his arm and stopped him, made him look at Qui-Gon. But it was Obion who spoke to him, in a cold voice.

"Your guardian tried to kill us this evening, Chun." 

Chun's eyes grew big and his mouth fell open. "He _what?_ "

"He made his intentions perfectly clear, and in fact, if it weren't for the security chief, we'd be dead."

Well, no, Qui-Gon didn't think Palpatine would have fired again to kill Obion, but he wouldn't argue the point with Obion now, it wasn't the time or place.

"Why?" Chun looked between the two of them and his shoulders slumped. He almost looked near tears. "Why would he do such a thing? He said he loved you, Highness. He told me that."

"He did?" Maul, finished with his call, came over and took Chun's arm, turning him away from Obion. "When?"

"All the time." Chun sighed, then swallowed. "I know his Highness had said or done something, something he didn't agree with, and he was feeling very depressed about it. I think." Craning his neck so he could look at everyone in the room, he added, "He doesn't talk to me very much, not anymore, anyway. What happened? Is he all right? What's going to happen now?"

"He's resting. Dr. Pfelling has him under sedation. You can see for yourself, if you want." Maul used the hand on Chun's arm to gently steer him to the bedroom door, which was still open. 

Chun stood in the doorway for a moment, then shook his head and turned. His face reflected his devastation. "Why would he do such a thing?"

"We're hoping you might be able to answer that, Chun." Maul's voice was soft but carried command. "He didn't say anything about an obsession with his Highness, or the revered Jedi?"

"Not really, not any more than what he usually says." He bit his lip, then looked over his shoulder at Obion again. "He really does love you, Highness."

Obion's face was an interesting study, and Qui-Gon couldn't easily tell how he felt about the situation. Chun, however, was as open a file as he could be, at least he appeared as such. It might be dissembling, but it certainly felt like honest confusion to Qui-Gon. 

As Maul began asking Chun more questions, about his guardian's use of a blaster, if he had said anything about the ball, Qui-Gon leaned down to murmur in Obion's ear. "Ground and center, Obion. Look at his aura."

After a quick, surprised look at Qui-Gon, Obion closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He was becoming increasingly adept at the process, and quickly found his center. When he opened his eyes again, he was seeing what Qui-Gon saw: an aura like old, faded roses; yellow with what were probably regrets and dull green with missed chances. It was not the tainted aura of one under another's control, or even an aura thick with promise, like Obion's.

It was ordinary.

Ordinary and completely confusing. Bruck Chun was the ward of the man they suspected might have been the Dark Force user. Certainly Palpatine's aura was one of restrained power; Qui-Gon knew he was very Force-sensitive but couldn't tell to what degree. And hiding one's aura, projecting it as something other than what it was -- masking it, like a face covered by a domino -- was not difficult to learn. It was difficult to sustain, it was true, but not impossible. It was how Freedon Nadd managed to get by the Jedi all those millennia ago.

As Qui-Gon mulled over the puzzle, there was a tap on the door and the page Maul had summoned ushered Plo Koon into the room. It was impossible to read the tall Kel Dor Council member, which was how he wanted it, actually -- the facemask made it easier for him. It relieved Qui-Gon to feel his friend's pleasure at finding him at the end of a summons.

Reluctantly releasing his hold on Obion, Qui-Gon turned to his friend and bowed. Plo had been quiet and there hadn't been time to get him alone since the Council had arrived, and this was hardly the way he wanted to greet his old friend. Shaking hands with himself -- he knew how much Plo hated to be touched -- Qui-Gon projected his own pleasure at seeing his friend again.

"Plo. It's been a long time, my friend."

"It is good to see you, Qui-Gon." At times, he found Plo's mask-filtered voice difficult to decipher. This was not one of them.

"Plo, it gives me pleasure to introduce the heir to the Sith Empire, his Highness Obion of the Clan Kenobi. Obion, this is my good friend and member of the Jedi Council, Plo Koon." Taking his hint from Qui-Gon, Obion merely bowed and smiled, and found his bow, at least, returned. "And this is the head of security here in the palace, Maul. Maul, my friend Plo Koon."

"It is good to meet you, revered Jedi Councilor Koon." Maul also bowed, after planting Bruck Chun on the sofa and asking him to stay there.

Seeing formality out of the way, Qui-Gon got immediately down to business. "Did you see what happened earlier this evening, Plo?"

"No, I did not, though I have heard rumors." He cocked his head. "Does this have anything to do with your mysterious, alleged Dark Force user?"

"Yes, it does. And he's not alleged, we just don't know who it is." Qui-Gon waved Plo deeper into the suite, following him. "His Highness' aura was extremely contaminated when I arrived, and we thought it was the work of this person, the First Minister, Roberd Palpatine." Palpatine was stretched out on his bed with a light blanket covering him. "Tonight, he tried to kill me. Maul prevented it."

Plo's head jerked up and he stared hard at Qui-Gon. "He tried to _kill_ you? Why?"

Qui-Gon sighed and wished he could avoid the question. "He... well, he seems to feel he's in love with his Highness, and that I stood between them." Shaking his head, Qui-Gon avoided Plo's masked gaze. "He did say something when he made the attempt that caused me to realize he was actually under control as well -- or perhaps the apprentice."

"There are always two," Plo murmured. He glanced at the young man on the sofa, who had his head in his hands. "But Qui-Gon, how could there be a Dark Force user here? We would surely detect it."

"How?" Qui-Gon pitched his voice lower, so only Plo, Maul and Obion could hear. "Why would we be looking? You know how the Council feels: Dark Force users are extinct. None could possibly be alive now, in our time. It's something that's been raised in the past and always slapped down."

"The last one to allege it was cast from the order," Plo agreed, nodding. "But it was hundreds of years ago that Yoda was excommunicated, Qui-Gon. And nothing ever came of his allegations, which only proves the point. We would know."

Well, at least Plo wasn't outright mocking him. "All I ask is for your help, old friend. Read this man here, and his ward, the young man on the sofa. Tell me if you don't believe me then."

After a long moment of silence, Plo nodded. He walked into the bedroom and stood by Palpatine's bed, looking down at the man upon it, and Qui-Gon could feel Plo ground, center and call upon the Force. Obion apparently could as well, and even Maul leaned forward, looking like a canine at point.

Qui-Gon knew, at least partly, what Plo would see: Palpatine's aura, which Qui-Gon saw as a dark orange in color, bright but corrupt, like rust on polished plasteel. Plo, though, should be able to sense more, and should be able to sense any real darkness residing in Palpatine. Hopefully, if Palpatine were the apprentice of the Dark Force user, Plo would be able to tell.

Plo stood still for a long time at Palpatine's bedside, looking down at the unconscious man upon it. Obion shifted until he was brushing against Qui-Gon, though he didn't take his eyes off Plo. Maul made sure to stay where he could see both rooms, and when the main door opened to admit two liveried security guards, he nodded for them to stay by the door.

Finally, nearly fifteen minutes after he started, Plo took a deep breath and stepped away, wobbling for a moment before finding his balance. He turned and once again Qui-Gon wished he could see the Councilor's face. "I would like to see the young man, this man's ward, did you say?"

"Yes, let me introduce you." Qui-Gon knew better than to ask Plo what he had seen, and shook his head minutely at Obion's curious glance. "Revered Jedi Councilor Plo Koon, this is Bruck Chun, the ward of Roberd Palpatine." Chun looked up, his wide eyes staring at those arrayed before him. "Councilor Koon would like to read your aura, Chun. It's not invasive, and he won't be able to read your thoughts --" Not the deep ones, anyway -- "all we need you to do is sit still for a few moments."

"All... all right." Chun seemed to shrink back into himself as Plo approached him, pushing deeper into the sofa cushions. They didn't see a lot of non-humans on Corellia, and Plo's countenance was rather frightening as it was.

"Do not fear," Plo said. "This will not hurt. I merely need to see your aura."

It took Plo much less time to assess Bruck Chun than for Palpatine. When he finally looked up and backed away, only a few moments had passed. He turned to Qui-Gon, shaking his head. "My friend, I'm not sure..."

Maul interrupted him. "Revered Jedi, I'm sorry, but perhaps we should have this conversation elsewhere. I'm sure that Chun would appreciate being able to go back to the party." 

Chun's head bobbed as he looked from person to person. "Yes, I guess I would."

Maul worked quickly. He got the guards situated before Palpatine's door, Bruck Chun out of the room and back to the party, then escorted all four of them to the Empress' garden. Qui-Gon was unsurprised that Maul would bring them there.

Plo and Qui-Gon took seats on the bench. "Your pardon, revered Jedi," Maul said with a bow. "But this is the only place where I am assured we cannot be overheard."

Nodding, Plo acknowledged the care, before turning again to Qui-Gon. "His aura has been compromised, Qui-Gon."

"Palpatine's?"

"Yes, the older man's. It's not so blatant as what you described the heir's as being," he nodded to Obion, who stood next to Qui-Gon, "but it has definitely been subverted. His ward's aura, however, is fine, if a little simple."

"Subverted," Qui-Gon repeated. "Do you believe me now?"

Shaking his head, Plo turned so that he was facing the large tree, which was nothing more than a dark shadow even with the light of the shield spilling on it. "There are many ways to compromise an aura, Qui-Gon. It can be done by the person involved, even. I still don't see that much evidence for a Dark Force user."

"But why?" Obion stood, his feet planted, his brow furrowed in a frown as he asked. "Why can't it be a Dark Force user?"

"The last of those was Freedon Nadd and his apprentice, Exar Kun, Highness." Plo spoke steadily. "That was millennia ago, and your own ancestress defeated them. The Dark Force is evil, and those who use it are consumed, sooner or later, by their own actions, by their own lust for power. A Dark Force user would never settle for one planet -- he would want them all, just as Kun and Nadd did."

"Like the Dhro is doing?" Plo's head snapped around so he was facing Qui-Gon. "Can we say for certain the Dhro is not a Dark Force user?"

"The _Dhro_? That's... No, that's impossible. He wouldn't have started on the other side of the galaxy if he were." Plo's words might have been strong, but Qui-Gon could hear his friend's lack of trust in them. "He would have started on Selonia, getting rid of the Jedi who would be his greatest threat."

"Just because that's how Freedon Nadd did it, it doesn't mean it's the only way to do it." Maul's voice was low and serious. "And we know he's taking and killing all the Jedi he meets on his way. It makes a lot of sense, in my opinion."

"Mine, too," Obion agreed. "Just before Palpatine pulled the trigger, he said 'his master' had promised that I would love him. That is very telling to me."

Still shaking his head but obviously being swayed by the strength of their arguments, Plo was silent for a long time. "We must think about this," he finally said. "Your points are valid, even though I don't know if I believe them."

"Plo," Qui-Gon said, as persuasively as possible, "I don't _want_ to believe them. I don't want another Kun or Nadd loose during my lifetime. It took the combined might of the Jedi and the Sith, not to mention exceptional heroes like Sunrider and Qel-Droma, to rid our galaxy of it the last time. I don't know if we have the strength this time. If one or the other is here, or out there, I don't know whether we can do what we have to do."

"We'll have to," Maul said. "There's too much at stake. We don't have a choice."

* * *

Plo decided not to go back to the party, choosing instead to return to his quarters and meditate. Maul offered to escort him, leaving Obion and Qui-Gon alone in the garden, and Qui-Gon wondered if Maul had done it on purpose.

"I'm glad I met Councilor Koon," Obion said softly. He took a seat on the bench next to Qui-Gon. "I would hate to have my view of the Jedi colored solely by Councilor Windu."

Qui-Gon sighed. "Mace does have his good points, Obion, he wouldn't have gotten on the Council otherwise. He doesn't like me, considers me to be a troublemaking heretic, but even that is nothing so much as his personal feelings coming through. We ended our personal affair on a very bad note."

"Will you tell me about it?" Obion's voice was soft and compassionate, and Qui-Gon felt a bit more of the plascrete around his heart crumble.

"There's not much to tell." He sighed. "I was in love with him. He wasn't in love with me. He has always been the stickler; he toed the line of the Jedi Code, letter and spirit, while I've always followed my heart and the Force. But I didn't see that until it was too late, until I made the mistake of kissing him, telling him how I felt."

The sting of their aborted affair was something Qui-Gon had felt for a long, long time, and he supposed he always would feel it. He was glad it was dark, for darkness hid a multitude of things, including pain. Obion seemed content to let him sit in the dark, in the silence, though he did, to Qui-Gon's surprise, take his hand.

The ball was still going; they could hear the band play even halfway across the palace, but Qui-Gon didn't want to go back. In fact, he wanted to simply stay where he was, in the dark, sitting next to a beautiful man who was everything he'd always wanted.

"There's an old tradition among the Sith," Obion said finally, softly. "Cliadle says it was started about the same time as Mummer's Fete, and is based on it. Two people, who think they're compatible, who believe they are falling in love, agree to 'Three Nights.' Have you heard of it?"

Qui-Gon shook his head, then realized Obion might not have seen him do so in the darkness. "No, I'm not familiar with it."

"It has pretty much died out, actually, so I'm not surprised." Obion gently squeezed the hand he still held. "The couple spends three nights together. The first and second, they spend talking and sleeping together, getting to know each other. There's an old saying: you only know a person well if you sleep with them." Qui-Gon could hear Obion's smile in his words. "I don't know, but it sounds logical. At any rate, if, by the third night, they're still together, if they still want each other, they make love." Qui-Gon could just see Obion wave his hand. "It was started as a way to help a couple decide whether they could live together after marriage."

"It's an enchanting tradition," Qui-Gon murmured. The path of their conversation was both terrifying and elating him.

"I'd like to claim Three Nights with you, Qui-Gon Jinn." Obion's voice was very sure and very soft. "Starting this night. Will you?"

Sure his voice might have been, but Obion's hand in Qui-Gon's was clammy, and that, strangely, calmed Qui-Gon. Because for the most part, Qui-Gon was paralyzed with indecision. Would he like to spend three nights with a young man who made him feel weak in the knees, who could do or say anything to him, who made him feel like a teenager again? Yes, of course he would, but was this the proper time? There was trouble brewing, the Dark Force user and the Dhro (if they weren't the same being) were still out there, still threatening, capable of who-knew-what, and wasn't this _not_ the time for distractions? He couldn't afford to let his guard down, even for a moment, could he? Could he?

"I..." And then there was the whole mess of Obion being the heir. What would the Empress say if she knew her eldest son was bedding a Jedi? What would her ministers and her subjects think? All those frantic and crazed questions, yammering in the back of his mind, and all Qui-Gon could do was to reach out and gently caress Obion's cheek, even while slamming the door to his fear, locking it away and out of sight. "There is nothing I would like better," he whispered, and Obion smiled.

* * *

Even though the party was still in full swing, they decided not to return. Instead, Obion brought Qui-Gon back to his own rooms and they sat together on his huge overstuffed sofa and traded secrets and kisses. Qui-Gon discovered Obion was a very good kisser indeed, though he could still be taught a few things. Obion discovered Qui-Gon's hands were one of his most potent erogenous zones, for when a finger was licked or sucked, Qui-Gon could barely keep from coming in his pants.

Then again, it might have just been because it was Obion doing the sucking and licking.

Obion fit perfectly against Qui-Gon's side, as though he had been made for that spot. His red-gold hair kept flopping in his eyes and Qui-Gon took great pleasure in sweeping it back while they talked and kissed. Obion talked about how it felt growing up royal, without a father but with a large, loving family. Qui-Gon talked about how out of place he felt in the Jedi, how lonely he had been even when at 'home' in the Temple. They both took comfort in the other, using their lips and tongues to claim territory and set up residence.

When Qui-Gon talked about his disastrous affair with Mace Windu, Obion's eyes darkened. "I can't understand why he didn't love you," he murmured, tracing one of Qui-Gon's eyebrows with a gentle finger. "Did you at least have sex?"

"No," Qui-Gon replied with a sigh. "Not in the way I wanted. I didn't want 'relief', as he called it, I could find that with my own hand, I didn't need another's. I wanted to make love. He did not."

"Are you a virgin?" Obion asked, blinking in shock.

Qui-Gon smiled sadly. "No, but neither am I very experienced, Obi." He looked down, hoping his face didn't look as red as it felt. "I've only had two real lovers, and though I didn't actually love either of them, they were both caring men whom I did care for. One of them helped me discover I was only attracted -- sexually, at any rate -- to males. The other... the other taught me how good making love could feel."

"I've been attracted to both men and women," Obion mused. "Women are lovely, all soft curves and sweet taste. But I wondered, I wondered what it would be like to be with a man. How different it would be."

"Men are stronger," Qui-Gon murmured. "You can be rougher with a man than you can with a woman. We understand the need for certain touches, what hurts and what doesn't, and what feels best of all." He shook his head. "I don't think I could be with a woman. I would be afraid of hurting her."

Nodding, Obion said, "Yes, that's exactly it. I'm always holding myself back when I make love to a woman. I thought..." His voice trailed off and he sighed. "I thought Roberd could teach me the ways of love, man to man."

Shoving down his inappropriate anger at how Palpatine had treated Obion, Qui-Gon merely tightened his arms. "Perhaps we could learn together," he whispered into Obion's hair. 

"I'd like that," Obion breathed back before lifting his head and kissing Qui-Gon again.

* * *

Qui-Gon woke the next morning feeling disoriented. Still fully dressed from the evening before, except for his shoes, he was wrapped around Obion, who was also fully dressed, lying on top of the covers of Obion's bed. A soft chiming sound came from the chrono next to them and sunlight filtered into the room through the windows. Birds, in the garden outside the windows, were singing sweetly to welcome the dawn.

Obion took a deep breath and hummed a little, waking slowly. Qui-Gon tightened his arms and kissed the back of Obion's head. "Good morning, Obion." His voice sounded raspy.

"Hmm... it wasn't a dream," Obion murmured. "So glad it wasn't a dream."

Qui-Gon barely caught himself from saying something disgustingly sappy, like 'you're my dream', and settled instead for an answering hum. He thought he could stay this way forever, if given the chance.

"We'd best get up," Obion said, sounding distinctly unhappy about the prospect. "Breakfast is soon."

"Yes, and I'd better get back to my rooms and change."

"Um, no, you don't have to." Obion's voice was both amused and incredulous, and Qui-Gon lifted his head to look down at him.

That's when he saw it: a complete set of Jedi tunics, folded neatly on the chair next to the door. He froze in shock. 

"Qui-Gon?"

"Who...?"

"I think it might have been Galer, but I'm sure Maul put him up to it," Obion said in a small voice. "I'm sorry."

"It's hardly your fault." Not releasing Obion, Qui-Gon let his head thump back on the pillow. "This is going to be hard to get used to."

"What is?"

Qui-Gon started chuckling. "Having a family. Having more than one person care for me. Knowing that... knowing..."

"That we love you?" Obion squirmed around until he was facing Qui-Gon. The look on his face was at once impish and serious and sweetly happy. "That I love you?"

All the oxygen in the room must have suddenly been sucked out, because that's the only reason Qui-Gon could think of why he suddenly couldn't draw a breath. He wanted to say, it's too soon, you can't know that. He wanted to say, are you sure, is it love? Could this be love? He wanted to say, you're too young, I'm too old, we shouldn't, it's not right. He wanted to say...

"I love you."

Obion nodded slowly, staring at him with those intense, beautiful eyes. "I know. I think... It's like we are... I don't know... something. Something strange, strange and beautiful. I know it sounds ridiculous..."

"No, it doesn't, and I don't know either. But you're right, there's something else happening, besides all the other things. It's happening to us, specifically. Something huge. I don't know whether to be worried or exhilarated."

"Or terrified."

"Or that. Or all of them." Qui-Gon smiled briefly, then ducked his head to kiss Obion gently. "Perhaps this is something else we'll have to learn together."

"I can do that."

Qui-Gon thought he might be able to do it too.

* * *

They weren't the first to breakfast; oddly enough, Maisen had actually beaten them to it. She was sitting on her mother's lap, excitedly talking about something when they entered together. The Empress looked up as they entered, and her smile felt like the sun coming out from behind clouds.

"Here is Master Jinn, Mai, perhaps he's the one you should speak to about it." She held out her hand and Qui-Gon took it, pressing it between his own. 

Obion walked to the other side of her chair, bent and kissed her cheek. "Good morning, Mam," he murmured.

"Oh, my darling, good morning," she replied, her voice thick. "It's so good to have my son back," she added, and though Qui-Gon wanted to ask her about that, Maisen was vying for his attention.

"Master Qui-Gon! Master Qui-Gon, the Jedi children can do dances, they showed me, and I want to learn with them, can I?"

Qui-Gon sat in his usual chair and his lap was immediately claimed. "What do you mean by dances, Maisen?" he asked her, one eye on her and the other on Obion, who was still speaking quietly with his mother.

"They do them all together, and they're really slow, except some of them are fast, and they can use lightsabers, did you know that?"

Ah, the beginning forms. They would look like dances to someone not brought up in the Temple. "Well, I..."

"There you are! It was my turn to get you up, Mai. You should have waited for me." Cliadle all but stomped into the room, shaking her finger at Maisen.

"I couldn't wait, Cli, I wanted to ask Mam and Master Qui-Gon about the dances!"

Cliadle put her hands on her hips. "I've told you they're not dances, Mai, they're exercises, and you shouldn't bother Master Qui-Gon -- good morning, by the way -- and did you put clean underwear on like you were supposed to?"

"Mam!" Anikin ran into the room, flushed and excited, carrying a model in one hand and a pair of trousers in the other. "I finished my model, the one Padme gave me of the Nubian! How do you get paint out of trous? Nanny Brom doesn't know how."

Aliamon and Maul happened to walk into the room at the same time and were dumbfounded to find everyone -- even Maisen, who was on his lap -- staring at Qui-Gon, who was laughing loudly and helplessly, from sheer, simple joy. Obion was the only one in the room who seemed to understand, but his shy, happy smile told no tales.

* * *

"The civil war on Coruscant appears to have been ended by the Dhro's forces," Mace Windu said. He was sitting on one side of the large conference table, across from Qui-Gon, and his briefing seemed to be nearing its end. "There appears to have been a significant loss of life in the pacification, and the Jedi we have in the area report dozens of refugee ships heading towards the Corellian system. We are expecting them to begin arrival within days. The ship with the royal house of Alderaan has also been located. They had to make a large detour to avoid the conflict on Coruscant, but they will be here within the next day or two."

Qui-Gon sat next to Obion, who sat next to his mother at the front of the table. Maul stood behind the Empress, his arms crossed, his face impassive. By contrast, Windu's expression of frozen disapproval seemed almost artificial.

Through what was possibly unconscious planning, the Jedi sat at the Empress' left hand, while her own ministers -- Queen Amidala and Finis Valorum among them -- sat on her right. Peace was maintained completely through the iron will of the Empress -- no one wanted to risk her censure. Qui-Gon was the only Jedi on the Sith side of the table, but he was finding himself more at home with the Sith anyway.

And he did not want to think about that, not at all.

"The Empire thanks Councilor Windu for his report," the Empress said. "Is there any word on the man who calls himself 'the mouth of the Dhro'? Has he approached the Jedi?"

"No, he hasn't, and there is no further information on that."

Windu stopped there and the other members from the Council looked at him curiously. Finally, Plo Koon spoke into the silence, his mild voice at odds with his fierce and masked countenance. "We will, of course, keep the Empire appraised of anything new." Windu glowered at him briefly before turning back to glare at Qui-Gon. "We also extend our deepest thanks to your Exalted Majesty for offering to shelter our children. Should there be any move on the Dhro's part against Selonia, we are grateful for the fact we will not have to work to shelter those among us who need the most care."

"The Empire needs no thanks, though thanks are welcome; our children are as precious to us as yours are to you. We are pleased to help, revered Jedi." The Empress smiled at Plo, who bowed from his seat. Qui-Gon wondered if he was the only one in the room to note the Empress had not called Windu 'revered Jedi' even once. "We do hope you are not putting Jedi at great risk in getting further information. Even though our treaty is not completed or ratified, the Empire wants the Jedi to know: we will protect you, not just your children, if at all possible in the times to come."

That caused a murmur at the table, mostly from the Jedi. Plo glanced at Windu, then shook his head when Mace stayed silent. Qui-Gon bet that behind his mask, his eyes were rolling. "On behalf of my fellow Jedi, I thank you for your most thoughtful offer, Exalted Majesty."

"You should be thanking your Master Jinn, revered Jedi. He has been tireless in his efforts to get the treaty finalized and ratified." Tireless? Well, possibly; though the Empress had been known to use hyperbole in the past. "In fact, Master Jinn has been of such great help to us that we would like to propose a slight amendment to the treaty." Qui-Gon frowned. He had no idea what she was up to but he didn't trust it -- one thing he had learned well about the Empress was that she had an extremely dry and sometimes dangerous sense of humor. "As you all know, our First Minister, Roberd Palpatine, is... ill. He is no longer able to fulfill his duties to the throne and scepter, and as such, it creates a void in our ministry staff. It would give us great pleasure to appoint revered Jedi Master Jinn as our First Minister, serving the Empire's royal house of Wan, thus cementing the rejoining of our two peoples."

If Qui-Gon's jaw had been capable of it, it would have hit the floor. Obion, sitting next to Qui-Gon, kept his eyes on the table before him but a very faint smirk made Qui-Gon certain his Highness knew all about this little surprise. The little rat.

The Jedi were obviously as surprised as Qui-Gon; they muttered between themselves, shooting glances at Qui-Gon. The only one who looked completely put-out by the idea was Mace Windu, which wasn't a surprise. "There is no precedent for this," Windu snapped, but before he could add more, Obion overruled him.

"On the contrary." Obion's voice was mild and calm but Qui-Gon could feel the leashed anger within him. It made Qui-Gon feel oddly grateful. "Ulic Qel-Droma, a revered Jedi Master of some repute, I believe, became the First Minister of Nomi Sunrider, the first Sith Empress of the Wan dynasty, shortly after the Sith-Jedi War."

Windu didn't seem able to recognize a superior force when he met it, and he was setting himself up for a fall -- one that Qui-Gon would enjoy watching. "That is irrelevant, since, in the first place, it happened millennia ago, and in the second, once Qel-Droma married a Sith, he ceased to be a Jedi." Hazarding a glance at the Empress, Qui-Gon found her doing her best utterly blank face, letting Obion draw first blood in this skirmish.

"Something I'm sure pleased him no end," Obion murmured, and Qui-Gon found he couldn't look at anyone, not and keep a straight face. 

Plo was actually laughing, though he disguised it. Having to wear a facemask helped, but Qui-Gon knew him too well. "I don't believe this is a good time or place to discuss such an amendment," he said, carefully not looking at either Qui-Gon or Mace Windu. Obion nodded, relinquishing the point. "At any rate, it would have to be something left, in large part, to Qui-Gon Jinn. Perhaps after the Fete, before we leave, we can meet with you, Master Jinn, and discuss this generous proposal in further depth."

Qui-Gon would rather be dipped in honey and dragged over a nest of Selonian mud-wasps than meet with the Council members, but he just bowed in acquiescence. They were, after all, his superiors. For now.

There was little else to say; General Skora had a report on the readiness of the troops and the building schedule of the new fighter ships, and Obion made another veiled plea to begin recruiting extra troops in the palace, one that his mother rejected (as she had been doing since Maul and Obion began proposing it, several weeks before). Maul must have received a summons, for at one point he glanced down at his belt, bent and whispered something into the Empress' ear and left. 

The Empress ended the meeting shortly after that. As they were standing and shuffling datapads and crystals about, she said something softly to Obion, who blinked and hurried out. After nodding to everyone still in the room, the Empress swept out, followed by her personal guard. Qui-Gon recognized Captain Sarin in the lead. 

Before Qui-Gon could leave, Plo called his name. Windu stalked out, insolently brushing against Qui-Gon as he left, and Qui-Gon rolled his eyes. Plo watched Windu and the other Councilors leave, shaking his head. When they were alone, he said, "Very well, I believe you."

Qui-Gon blinked. "You do? Why? What...?"

"Mace Windu. His behavior is not typical for him at all." Plo shot a glance at the open door and sighed. "He's never been fond of you, Qui-Gon, but his dislike has always been tempered by professionalism. Now, though, his anger levels are out of control and he is making no move towards releasing them. This is not normal, Qui-Gon."

"He does seem a bit more angry than I would have expected." Qui-Gon frowned as he looked down the corridor. "But why him? Why increase his antipathy? To what end?"

"I've been doing some reading, Qui-Gon, in fact, I began before we even left Selonia, right after you shared your data with us on the situation." Plo folded his arms into the sleeves of his robe. "Perhaps I could speak with you somewhere more private, with those we met with yesterday."

Only mildly surprised that Maul's paranoia had rubbed off, Qui-Gon nodded. "I'll arrange it and send for you."

They bowed to each other and went their separate ways.

* * *

While Qui-Gon had meant to arrange that meeting immediately, events conspired against him. The reason Maul and Obion had been called from the meeting was that the ship bearing most of the house Organa was in-system, and by the time Qui-Gon found out about it, the ship had landed.

He knew the prince, Bail Organa, quite well, having worked with him and his father in the past. He had expected to see Bail, his three sisters, and their mother; but as it turned out, their mother had remained on Alderaan with her husband. Their status was uncertain, though Qui-Gon feared the worst: nothing was getting out of Alderaan any longer, people or news.

The Empress and the Heir also knew the Organa family. Qui-Gon arrived at the palace's ship port -- the Organas had a far smaller ship than Queen Amidala, and that meant they could land much closer to the palace -- in time to see Obion draw Bail into a tight embrace. A flash of jealousy left him surprised and irritated: surprised he would feel it and irritated he felt it in the first place. When the two young men broke their embrace, he could see Bail clearly, and felt a twist of sympathy go through him. Bail looked terrible, his face was pale and his eyes ringed with bruises.

Bail greeted Qui-Gon with a blink of surprise. "Qui-Gon? Great stars, what are you doing here?"

Qui-Gon smiled and took the proffered hand, drawing Bail in for a hug. "Didn't you get the memo? The Jedi and the Sith are no longer enemies."

Chuckling weakly, Bail leaned on him and Qui-Gon thought he must be near physical exhaustion. His sisters didn't look much better; all of them looked ready to find a bed to collapse on.

The Empress must have seen that too. "You all must be exhausted." She had her arm around the youngest of Bail's sisters, Melyta, whose face was white and pinched. "We've put you in the south wing again, Bail, dear. There's plenty of room for all of you."

Between getting everyone settled, getting a preliminary report from Bail on the state of the Dhro's forces and helping to see to it he was fed and rested; between handing out treats to every child in the palace who demanded one (Bellen had warned him he'd need his sack of treats, and she had been right) and introducing Maisen and then Cliadle to the Master of Initiates and giving his approval for the two girls to watch and participate in the initiates' training; between endless reports and new demands and concessions on the Jedi-Sith treaty; between his surprise at finding another new set of clothing for him for the Second Night party and Obion suddenly dashing up to him in the hallway, grabbing and yanking him out of the hall into a janitor's closet and then kissing him senseless; between all those things, Qui-Gon didn't have time to even think about his Jedi superiors or the new request by the Empress. He'd wanted to, but he allowed it to be put off until the next morning, when he'd meet with the Empress and Maul anyway.

After all, there was still plenty of time.

* * *

After Obion had pulled him into that janitor's closet (a closet of all things!) and kissed him, he told Qui-Gon their daily session would have to wait. "I've got a meeting with Maul and Dem Skora on the information Bail brought us," he had explained, breathlessly. Then he kissed Qui-Gon again.

Qui-Gon let it go on for probably longer than he should have, but it was nearly impossible to break the kiss, to end the sweetness. When they finally did break away, he was certain he looked much as Obion did -- high color, dazed eyes, kiss-bruised lips and mussed clothing. "We can pick it up tomorrow," he murmured, risking another kiss. "I need to find the right-sized staves and get other things ready for our next session anyway." His mouth seemed to be drawn inexorably to Obion's.

When Obion broke that one, he looked endearingly confused. "Staves?"

"To train you how to fight with a 'saber. You didn't think we start out with the real thing, did you?"

Obion's smile was brighter than the sun. He opened his mouth to speak but Qui-Gon kissed him again before he could. "And if you say 'that's wizard,' I'm likely to do something rash," Qui-Gon murmured, kissing his way along Obion's jaw line to his ear, which he bit lightly.

"Oh! Do that again..." Obion's breathing was getting much heavier -- time to get them out of the closet and back to their duty.

"If I do, we're going to end up very uncomfortable," Qui-Gon said, forcing his body to pull away from Obion's. It was difficult to do so, not the least because of their close quarters. 

Taking a deep breath, Obion also stepped away. "You're right, I have to go. Be my partner at the party tonight?"

"Try to stop me," Qui-Gon said with a smile. 

How had he ever gotten so lucky as to earn the love of that man?

* * *

The Mummer's Fete Second Night parties were for children of all ages but mostly Anikin's age and younger. They were able to demand a treat from any adult they chose during the day, and at night those treats were burned off by dancing and performing. The Sith also had a tradition of putting on sweet, silly and highly amateur pageants, and scandalous stories about past ones, involving Obion, Aliamon and Cliadle, were traded freely. It was a different band than the night before but the same ballroom, and the Jedi Council still sat in one corner, disassociating themselves from all the revelry, obviously present only due to protocol. 

Much to Qui-Gon's surprise, the Jedi children were planning to put on a show, and Maisen was nearly beside herself with excitement over it. The Empress was impressed at Maisen's sudden desire to be like a Jedi, and readily agreed to the exhibition. Maisen sat in the front row and cheered loudly as the initiates did forms, sparred and did tumbling routines which, for them, were nothing special. They positively glowed at the praise and applause from the audience.

While 'Queen Amidala' wasn't there, Padme Naberrie was, and she and Cliadle were coaxed to the stage to sing an extremely silly duet, something about sisters who shared everything. Obion managed to persuade Aliamon to share the stage with him, and they sang a beautiful love song, about loving until one's dying day. Obion stared at Qui-Gon the entire time, and Qui-Gon couldn't take his eyes off the stage or the beautiful man on it. He'd had no idea Obion could sing so well.

Once the entertainment was over, the dancing began, and Obion grabbed Qui-Gon immediately. "Tonight will go better than last night," he said as Qui-Gon snuggled him tightly and they twirled around the floor. 

"In more ways than one," Qui-Gon replied, and Obion laughed.

It was an extremely pleasant evening. Qui-Gon managed to get a furiously blushing Terrell dancing with Aliamon and was surprised to see Bruck Chun dancing with Siri. The Empress claimed him for one of the slower dances, and made clear to him her happiness in his seeing Obion. He was definitely going to have to get used to having a family who knew everything about his love life.

He was definitely going to have to get used to _having_ a family, let alone a love life, but the latter part would be easy, he suspected.

They stayed and danced until long after the children had been taken to bed, until the Empress herself had left. The band obligingly played slow, lovely waltzes for them, and though Qui-Gon was certain they made a very disgustingly sappy couple on the dance floor, he also didn't care. He was holding his lover in his arms, and it felt wonderful.

By some unspoken agreement, when they left the party, they went back to Obion's rooms. This time, they left the sofa and went directly to the bedroom, turning on only enough light to see by. Sitting together on the bed, they took turns kissing and undressing each other until they were down to their underclothes, then crawled under the covers, touching and kissing, whispering words of praise and discovery. It didn't take long for them to find a comfortable position: Qui-Gon holding Obion and Obion with his head over Qui-Gon's heart, and they settled into it, relaxing into the plush mattress.

"I still can't believe this is real," Qui-Gon breathed into Obion's hair. He was achingly aroused and treasured it, reveled in it, savored the feeling with the knowledge that it would be released, eventually, but it didn't have to be done now. He was free to feel it, free to enjoy it and that freedom felt greater than anything he had ever known.

Obion was gently tracing the outline of his chest muscles with one finger. "I've been thinking, today, whenever I had a chance," he said, his voice very soft. "The feeling we both had, yesterday, that something else was going on... I felt it even more today. Did you?"

"Yes, I did. Especially when you pushed me into that broom closet."

Chuckling, Obion teasingly scraped his fingernail lightly over Qui-Gon's nipple. Qui-Gon couldn't prevent his gasp and slight arch at the exquisite sensation that engendered, and Obion lifted his head and gave Qui-Gon a speculative look. "Leaving that aside for the moment," he said with a sardonic lift of one eyebrow that told Qui-Gon he was in serious trouble, "what I meant to say was that I think, maybe, I know what's going on. With us, I mean."

"Yes?" Qui-Gon had come to his own conclusions, and was interested in knowing if they meshed Obion's. 

Obion started slowly. "All my life, I've felt the Force. I didn't know what to call it until I started growing up and reading about the Sith, the Jedi, the Force and all that." He was back to gentle touches and Qui-Gon's skin felt sensitized by them. "Since you've been teaching me, I think I understand it much better, know how it works and maybe why. As much as anyone can, I suppose."

It sounded to Qui-Gon that Obion's conclusions were much the same as his. He made a non-committal noise, encouraging Obion to keep talking.

"In the archives, there are letters on parchment between Nomi Sunrider and Ulic Qel-Droma -- they're considered one of the heirlooms of the House. We've all read them, or rather, read facsimiles of them. In each one, they talk about the Force, and how the Force was pulling them together, was adding to their pleasure when they were together, and making them feel almost sick when they had to be apart. I think maybe the Force is doing that to us as well." He snorted. "Which really isn't all that good a thing, I'm thinking. After all, look what happened to them."

"They didn't quite have the 'happily ever after' they deserved, did they?" Qui-Gon murmured, squeezing Obion gently. "But they were happy, and had years, decades, together." Obion nodded. "In the Temple, we're taught there is no death, there is the Force. I'd like to believe Sunrider and Qel-Droma are together in the Force, even now. Their spirits were so fiery, I cannot imagine they are not."

"So you agree with me?"

"I'm afraid I do." They both sighed. "While I do not like the idea of being the Force's plaything, I cannot fault it that much -- it gave me you. Just when I was beginning to despair, it gave me you."

They were silent for a long time. "I'm going to be Emperor some day," Obion murmured. His breath felt warm and moist on Qui-Gon's skin. "I'll have to sire at least one child, to continue the line, and I'll be expected to be almost more than human with my subjects, just as Mother is." 

"I know."

"It scares me at times," Obion whispered, and Qui-Gon tightened the arm he had around the future emperor. 

* * *

They were deeply asleep when there was a gentle tap on the door. "Highness?"

Qui-Gon fought for consciousness -- something unusual for him, he was used to waking completely suddenly, no matter how deeply asleep he was -- as he heard Obion's groggy voice. "Galer?"

"Highness, it's Maul, sir. He needs to speak with you now, in person, he said, and the revered Jedi too." Galer sounded nearly as sleepy as Obion and Qui-Gon, but there was a note of fear underlying his voice. 

Coughing a little, probably to clear his throat, Obion took a deep breath. "Right, we'll be right there. Galer, can you let him know?"

"Yes, sir, I can. Sorry about waking you, sir."

"S'alright, Galer." 

Qui-Gon heard the page move away from the door as Obion sat up, scrubbing his hands through his hair until it stood up in little tufts. He yawned hugely. "I have a bad feeling about this," he muttered.

"No argument." Qui-Gon couldn't help ogling a little as Obion got out of bed, though he laughed at himself for it. With a sigh, he realized he'd forgotten to bring his Jedi clothing, and would have to go to this surprise meeting in his party clothing.

Before he got out of bed, however, Obion pinned him for one last kiss, a promise and a taste of things to come. Literally. Qui-Gon felt much lighter as he dressed in his wrinkled clothes.

The lightness only lasted as far as the door to the garden. Maul met them there, and the Empress was already seated on her bench. Through the shield, false dawn was just spreading; there was a small electric torch on the ground next to the bench, giving just enough light to see.

"Roberd Palpatine has been murdered."

Yes, it was bad.

Qui-Gon sank down on the bench next to the Empress and blinked at Maul. "When? How?"

"'When' was some time this evening." Maul was already pacing. Obion stood behind the bench and leaned on it. "'How' -- well, he was beheaded. With a lightsaber."

"Oh, Force." Qui-Gon swallowed hard. Obion put his hand on Qui-Gon's shoulder, squeezing gently. "I thought he was still in custody?"

"I thought so as well," the Empress said. Her voice was as cold as the air around them.

"He was. He was in a holding cell in the dungeon, and Dr. Pfelling was tending to him, since he still hadn't regained consciousness." Maul sounded intensely frustrated. "I had my best on his guard detail, 'round the clock, and they noticed nothing. Nothing! Until the guard was changed, at which time the new guards noticed they were guarding a corpse. The electronic surveillance was disabled, for over an hour, not that anyone noticed, so I can't even look to that."

Maul paced, Obion leaned, Qui-Gon and the Empress sat still; all of them in shock. More than ever this pointed to a Dark Force user in the palace, someone who could control many minds at once, someone who knew the palace and its denizens well. With a start, Qui-Gon recalled his conversation with Plo Koon. "We need to get Plo here, at once," he said. 

Maul stopped pacing long enough to turn to him. "Why?"

"He was speaking to me earlier, I mean, yesterday, right before the Organas arrived. He said he'd been doing some reading and was now in agreement there was a Dark Force user in the palace, somewhere."

With a downward jerk of his head, Maul strode to the entrance and asked the guard on duty to fetch the Councilor. The Empress turned to Qui-Gon. "Did he say why?"

"Something about Mace Windu's extreme emotions being atypical." Obion squeezed his shoulder again and Qui-Gon patted his hand. "If Palpatine was killed by a 'saber, then whoever did it is trying to set up either me or the Jedi for his death."

Maul returned in time to hear that. "Save that you have an excellent alibi," he raised his eyebrow over Qui-Gon's shoulder, "and I have security on the other Jedi, watching them."

"I thought we'd agreed not to do that, Maul," the Empress said.

Shrugging, Maul shook his head. "Punish me for it later, Adi. Right now, I just want to find out how I can fight an enemy I cannot see or hear. One who can control my men, one who can control everything about the palace."

None of them wanted to address that particular issue, so they waited, in silence, for Plo Koon. The whole situation was frightening in the extreme, and Qui-Gon couldn't help but wonder: he'd told the Council once that 'it' -- the Dhro, the invasion, whatever you wanted to call it -- would end at Corellia, one way or another. Now he was wondering, what was the other way? What more could happen?

Qui-Gon rose and offered his seat to Plo, apologizing for the hour. "It's nothing, Qui-Gon," Plo replied. "I was up and ready to meditate when summoned." He glanced around at the people assembled. "I take it this is about what we discussed yesterday?"

"Yes." Qui-Gon glanced at Maul, then at the Empress; both nodded. "The man who was injured the other day, the one whose aura was compromised? He was murdered last night, in a locked cell, with guards who saw nothing, cameras that recorded nothing. He was beheaded by a lightsaber."

"Are you certain?" Plo looked up at Maul, who nodded.

"The wound was completely cauterized. There was no sign of a struggle, though the bed -- on which we found him -- was not burned."

"He was standing, then, when it was done." The Empress' voice was bleak. "He knew what was coming."

"Perhaps." Plo's voice was mild but Qui-Gon could feel the curiosity he was projecting. "Standing or sitting, yes, but knew what was coming? Perhaps not." He paused and looked down. The dawn was becoming brighter as they sat together. "When Qui-Gon sent us his datacrystals detailing the problem with his Highness, I started to do some research. A few dozen years ago I remembered reading something in our library that piqued my interest in the Jedi-Sith war. It took me some time, but I did find the reference. And while here, thanks to the gracious largesse of your Exalted Majesty," Plo nodded to the Empress who smiled and nodded back, "I was able to confirm it with books and data housed here, in the Empire." 

Adept at prolonging suspense, Plo sometimes drove his friends insane with the talent. While Qui-Gon wanted to grab his robes, shake him and demand he talk, he managed to stay in control until Plo began again.

"Exar Kun and Freedon Nadd had the highest midi-chlorian counts ever recorded. Their grasp of the Force, both Light and Dark, was incredible. They were able to take control of dozens of people at once, and to maintain control with seeming ease, over parsecs' worth of distance. What's more, these people did not know they were under control, and further, even after that control left them, they didn't realize they had been suborned. They refused to believe it. That was probably the most fear-inducing of all their powers."

"They never knew? Not ever?" Obion's voice was incredulous and pain-filled and echoed Qui-Gon's thoughts. He could remember Obion shouting at Maul that it wasn't rape. This was not going well.

"Never. They were told, they could be convinced, but objectively they never had any doubt their actions were their own." Plo shook his head. "However, that's not really the most frightening thing about those two. How they were overcome, how the war they induced was won, has passed into legend, both here and in the Temple. The actual facts of the story, I have been discovering, are quite different. For example, we've been taught Nomi Sunrider was immune to their coercion. That is not true. Nor was Qel-Droma immune. More telling is this fact, which I never knew... while we know what happened to Freedon Nadd, Exar Kun's body was never recovered."

Time stopped.

Qui-Gon only remembered to breathe when spots started dancing in front of his eyes. He gasped then, and the world wobbled beneath his feet. Obion slowly walked around the bench and pushed himself into Qui-Gon's side, and Maul knelt near the Empress, taking one of her hands.

"He couldn't be," the Empress whispered. "Even in carbon-freeze, no one can be held in stasis that long and survive. It's impossible."

"The Dhro is using cloned forces," Plo said gently. "And no, it is highly unlikely that Kun has been kept alive this long, but that's hardly necessary, isn't it? All someone would need is a bit of his DNA, a small piece of him that could indeed have been kept viable for millennia. He wouldn't be trained, but in essence, he would _be_ Exar Kun."

Qui-Gon became aware of a fine trembling in his limbs, and realized Obion was reacting much the same. The Empress' face was completely white, and she had a death grip on Maul's hand. "Mace told me Freedon Nadd is a name to scare children into behaving," Qui-Gon choked out. Obion's arm around his middle tightened. "I would never in a million years have contemplated this, never guessed, not once..."

"We don't know this is true, Qui-Gon," Plo said. "I would like to do more research, both here and at the Temple. Your library, Great Lady, is formidable and exhaustive. You fill the gaps the Temple has, quite well." He sighed. "The one good thing here is my instincts tell me whoever the Dark Force user is, he or she is not as powerful as either Kun or Nadd. Even if the person is a clone of Kun, we must remember what I said earlier: he will not be properly trained, not as well as the original Kun was. Kun had training as a Jedi, before falling to the Dark; this person would have to rely on other methods. The power would be raw and not necessarily directed, and that may be our saving grace. What part the Dhro plays in all this I have no idea, he may _be_ the Dark Force user, and the one here in the palace merely his apprentice. We will have to wait, be patient, and study as much as we can, to prepare for the worst."

The Empress swallowed. "Revered Jedi, you are welcome here in our house for as long as the sun shines on Corellia," she said. "If you wish to stay after your brethren have returned, the Empire would be pleased to host you."

Plo bowed deeply from his seated position. "I thank you, Great Lady. I must defer to those in the Council of the Jedi, but regardless, I will be spending the remainder of the holiday happily ensconced in your archives." He stood and tucked his hands into his sleeves. "I should be starting now, actually. If I could trouble you for an escort?"

He looked at Maul, who nodded. "Let me find someone to do so, revered Jedi."

When Maul returned from his brief errand, no one had moved. He sat with a sigh next to the Empress, who actually leaned into him. "Maul." Her voice was tiny and soft. "I am frightened."

"I will protect you, da'mrow," Maul murmured, taking her hand again.

She looked at him, and whatever he saw in her eyes must have affected him deeply. He tugged her hand to his chest and wrapped his free arm around her shoulders, gently pulling her towards him enough he was able to touch her forehead with his. "But who will protect you?" she asked, her voice thick, and a cold chill darted up Qui-Gon's spine.

* * *


	8. Chapter 8

**CHAPTER EIGHT**

It was a long, tiring day, made longer by the early morning. While Qui-Gon was used to long days on short sleep, his new relationship with Obion was, for some reason, draining him of his energy. He looked forward to the third night of their 'Three Nights' and to the masquerade, but wondered if exhaustion would claim him before he could even kiss his love.

The Empress told Aliamon and Cliadle a censored version of the meeting with Plo Koon after Anikin and Maisen left for their classes, after breakfast. Cliadle kept asking questions until the Empress told her a bit of what Plo had revealed, at which time Cliadle shocked everyone in the room.

"You didn't know his body wasn't recovered?" she said, obviously puzzled. "I did, I thought everyone did. Nadd was tossed into a volcano on Onderon, but Kun was spaced, and when they went looking for his body, they couldn't find it. I thought you _knew_."

Obion was looking at his sister as though she'd suddenly sprouted wings, but Maul's expression -- once he got over his surprise -- was nothing but pride. "I think, perhaps, you might like to help revered Jedi Koon, da'schal," he said, glancing at the Empress for confirmation. She nodded after a moment.

"I can? Oh, that would be wonderful. I know the stacks better than anyone else, I'm sure I'd be able to help him."

"This may be a mistake," the Empress murmured. Qui-Gon gave her a wry smile.

The Seneschal entered the room at that moment and Maul stiffened. "Majesty, I need to go over the plans for the masquerade tonight, when you have time," Matrin said. "Will the revered Jedi be joining us for the public ball or just the private one?" He addressed the question to Qui-Gon, who frowned in thought. 

"I really don't know, Jay, but I'll try to find out." He sighed. "I think I'm going to need to find a costume, assuming I'm going. And I have to get back to my rooms to change."

"Your costume has already been delivered to your quarters, Master Jinn." Matrin smiled. "His Highness picked it out for you."

Qui-Gon looked at Obion, who had the grace to look abashed. "Dare I ask?" he murmured. Cliadle giggled.

"Jay," Aliamon said, "do you know if the costume I want has been finished?" Qui-Gon frowned. Her voice sounded strange.

"Yes, actually, Highness, it has been." Matrin turned toward her and smiled. "It looks lovely. If you would like to meet me at the seamstress' room in an hour, I'd be glad to help you with it."

"Thank you, Jay." She turned to her mother. "I've got to go, Mother, I'm meeting a few friends."

The Seneschal stayed in the room to talk to the Empress, but everyone else left. Cliadle gave her father a fast hug and took off down the hall towards the main library, and Maul, after letting her go, turned to frown at the closed door behind him.

"I'll wait for Adi here," he murmured to Obion and Qui-Gon. "Highness, you have a staff meeting scheduled later, and I believe Prince Bail has expressed a desire to join you for lunch. Check your schedule before you do anything else."

Obion blinked at Maul, who had already turned away, then his face reddened. "I'll be with Qui-Gon, but we'll be working out, nothing more."

He didn't sound very convincing, and Qui-Gon chuckled. "We didn't get a lot of sleep last night, Obi. Perhaps..."

With a half-hearted glare, Obion grabbed his hand and began tugging him down the hall. "Is my whole family intent on embarrassing me this morning?" He was trying for grumpy, but again, he wasn't very convincing at it. 

Qui-Gon couldn't stop thinking it was probably inappropriate to be this happy: at any minute, the Dhro could arrive and attack, there were more refugees arriving every day from Coruscant, and there was undoubtedly a Dark Force user lurking in the palace somewhere. But Qui-Gon found it impossible to maintain a gloomy outlook when he had Obion by his side, which, by itself, was completely inappropriate. But what the hell. He hadn't felt this giddy since he was a padawan and realized what being a Jedi would mean to him.

"I do need to check in with Bellen," he said as they reached the cross-corridor where Obion's rooms were. "I'm afraid I'll have appointments I'll miss."

"It's a holiday," Obion said with some exasperation. "Not, of course, that's ever stopped people." He chuckled, stretched up and kissed Qui-Gon. "I'll meet you in your rooms. I need to check in too."

* * *

  
Bellen was very happy to see him, and wanted to know all about the party, since she had not attended. Terrell was still in shock over being able to dance with Aliamon, and so couldn't tell Bellen much about it. The costume had indeed been delivered, and Qui-Gon was surprised to see it: buttery soft white leather breeches, laced up the front, which would, on him, be absolutely skin-tight, and a mid-thigh length, sleeveless vest in midnight blue, made beautiful with embroidery and beadwork. There was no shirt to go under it, and three buttons about mid-sternum, and he would look utterly ridiculous in it. Mace Windu would surely explode or at least have a major coronary.

All it took was that last thought to cement it; ridiculous or not, he would definitely wear it. One-upmanship was not exactly a good trait for a Jedi, but he wasn't a very good Jedi, as Mace was so fond of pointing out.

"It's the traditional feast clothes of the old Freerangers, the ones that were the ancestors of the Sith," Bellen said, fingering the heavy vest. "It's beautiful, isn't it? I've never seen such lovely work outside a museum."

"It is beautiful, but I doubt I'll be able to give it the show it deserves."

"Oh, I wouldn't say that, Master Jinn. But you'll have to do something with your hair... maybe I have some blue or white ribbons..."

"Ribbons?"

"Mm-hmm," Bellen walked back to the teleunit. "I'll see if I can find some. Now, then. I've finished incorporating the changes her Exalted Majesty and you wanted into the treaty, and have it saved on datacrystal for you, do you need more than one copy? Also, the revered Jedi Koon sent you a message about..."

To Qui-Gon's dismay, he had a busy schedule. The Jedi wanted to meet with him on the Empress' proposal, the lunch request from Bail Organa for Obion included him, and the master of initiates wanted some of his time about Maisen. Plo Koon had been so happy with Cliadle it almost sounded as if he wanted to take her as his padawan, and he wanted Qui-Gon to stop by sometime as well. Though he'd be at the Jedi meeting, it sounded like he'd prefer to talk to Qui-Gon privately.

The Jedi meeting. When had the Jedi become 'them' and the Sith become 'us'? He had a feeling he knew what would happen at the meeting, since there was a quorum of the Council present on Corellia. He just hoped Plo would be able to temper their feelings, their anger, feelings that they were, by rights and the Code, not allowed to have. He was glad Depa Billaba had come to Corellia with the Council, as she was also a voice of reason. The others would vote their conscience, but Mace Windu was the head of the Council, and what he said would be adhered to, generally.

Rousing Terrell from his stupor, he turned to Bellen. "Would you call his Highness and let him know..."

"He's already called, Master Jinn," Bellen interrupted him with a smile. "He says to tell you he'll see you at lunch."

"I'm just hoping I won't _be_ lunch," Qui-Gon muttered. "Sounds good. Terrell, lead on... but if you have any fireproof clothing, I'd be grateful to borrow them."

Terrell thought he was joking, as did Bellen. He wasn't.

Any other time, Qui-Gon might have found it amusing to meet with his executioners in the same small meeting room where he had faced down Roberd Palpatine, but this was not any other time. He walked into the room to find everyone already there and waiting for him, and resisted the urge to tug his stola straight.

"Nice of you to join us, Master Jinn," Mace Windu said, opening the meeting and setting the tone.

"I apologize for my tardiness; I had a very early morning meeting with the Empress."

"I thought your _secretary_ took care of making sure you had all your appointments up to date." 

He would _not_ descend to Windu's level, he would not. "Yes, and she has just informed me. What can I help the council with this morning?"

Before Mace could speak, Ka'Ran Da, one of the younger Council members, did. "Master Jinn, since we are here, we would like a face-to-face with you on the progress you've made with the treaty. We understand you believe it will be ready for ratification within a month?"

"Yes, I do. A month or sooner. Most of the Jedi's requests have been met. I think you'll like the final outcome." Before anyone else could speak, he pulled the datacrystal Bellen had given him from his belt pouch. "This is the roughed in version, and, as you'll see, there is very little in the way of concessions required of the Jedi."

They passed the cube around, each Councilor loading the data into his or her reader. The room became silent as everyone perused the treaty, and Qui-Gon was pleased to note even Mace Windu looked sourly accepting.

"This is very good work, Master Jinn," Depa Billaba said. She looked across the table at Plo Koon, and he nodded. "I think I can speak for all of us: your work here has been even better than we expected."

"Thank you for your words of encouragement and praise," Qui-Gon murmured, bowing. He pulled out a chair and sat, feeling more welcome suddenly. "As for the Empress' last-minute request for an addendum, I assure you, it came as much of a surprise to me as it did to you."

"You expect us to believe that?" Mace Windu said, his voice incredulous. "She didn't mention it to you before?"

"One of the things I've learned from my time here, Master Windu, is that the Empress is nothing if not unpredictable." He sighed and shook his head. "It's made things very interesting at times."

"Well, I have a great deal of difficulty in acceding to her request," Windu continued. "You are a Jedi, not a Sith. She has no right to ask you to be her minister, it is a conflict of interest."

"I think the primary reason we are all here is to agree that there are no such distinctions, Mace," Depa said. "We were one, once; we can be again... if we are willing to set aside our prejudices."

Windu bristled, and Qui-Gon found himself glad it was Depa and not him at the end of that snit, for once. 

To his surprise, Plo Koon headed Windu's anger off at the pass. "The last time we were unable to, it led to the Jedi-Sith war." All eyes turned to him as he made his mild statement. "We have long operated under the assumption that the war started because of the inherent differences between how the Jedi and Sith see the Force, and that it was caused from our battle with the Dark Force users. That is not necessarily the case. My studies in the library here have filled in gaps in the Temple libraries, and I believe I can point to other reasons."

"Explain." Qui-Gon had the absurd thought that Windu's face was someday going to freeze in that scowl, and no one would notice.

"We have long understood that Kun and Nadd were able to influence large numbers of people, across great distances. Some of those they influenced were not so much coerced as persuaded -- many came to their aid willingly, after a lust for power." Those at the table were nodding; this was old news. "We have also long believed that once Kun and Nadd were gone, their influence was also gone. That does not appear to be so, after my studies. I still have far to go, but I can make a preliminary report."

"How can you trust documents that are here, written by Sith who were at war with the Jedi at the time?" Depa asked, her face in a slight frown. "Would there be no prejudicial slant to them?"

"There is, in some of them, and it is easy to spot," Plo conceded. "However, several of the documents I've found were written by Jedi."

That caused a stir. Even Qui-Gon was surprised by it, and he'd come to believe that much of what he thought he knew about the Sith, the Jedi, and their relations, was not inherently true. 

"Ulic Qel-Droma married Nominda Sunrider, who then became Nomi-Wan, the first empress of the Wan Dynasty, long before the end of the war against the Dark Force users. This makes a great deal of sense; we have been told it was Sunrider's lightsaber that disabled Nadd sufficiently to kill him, and it was Qel-Droma who taught her how to build it. But after the war was won, after Nadd was dead and Kun presumed dead -- and I will get back to that later -- the Jedi and the Sith were not at war. The war between us seems to have begun when the Temple recalled Qel-Droma to active service and he refused to return."

Qui-Gon blinked in amazement. Like the other Jedi, he had brought his preconceptions to Corellia, and now most of them were happily destroyed. A quick glance around the table confirmed he was not the only one utterly astonished by Plo's revelations, and that gave him a measure of satisfaction.

When no one spoke for a long moment, Plo continued. "I realize we are meant to return tomorrow morning to the Temple. I'd like to stay, and I'm making a formal request to that effect. The Empress has already agreed. I have been introduced to a most learned assistant," he turned to Qui-Gon and bowed, "who I think will be of enormous assistance to me in this research, which includes investigation into the alleged Dark Force user currently suspected here on Corellia. Actually, I would like to request the Council send Jocasta here upon your return, since no one is more knowledgeable of the Temple's books."

"This is fascinating news," Depa said, and several agreed with her, nodding or murmuring. "I have no problem allowing Plo to stay. In fact, perhaps we should send for Jocasta now, since Plo seems to be making such good progress. And I would like to hear more about these mysterious findings about Kun."

There was significant debate on the issue, and Qui-Gon stayed out of it, letting others talk and get into fights over it. He could feel the currents of the Force moving through the room, felt something akin to an undertow starting: something significant was going to happen, was happening, and he had a feeling it was a congruence, a vergence of some sort that was going to be a major pain in his ass, no matter what it turned out to be.

He wasn't going to leave. When he arrived, he knew the Force intended him to be with the Sith, to help reconcile the Sith with the Jedi. Now that he was here, he knew the Force would not be happy with his leaving. He wouldn't be happy leaving. In fact, the only way he would stay happy was to stay with Obion, and he was glad he had the Force backing him in that feeling.

Finally, they came to a tentative agreement: Plo Koon would stay and continue his research. He would prepare a resume of his research and present it to the Council before they left for the Temple, and they would, in turn, brief Jocasta Nu and request she come to Corellia to help. The situation with the treaty and Qui-Gon's elevation to First Minister to the Empress was tabled, and Qui-Gon was told to continue as he was doing, since he appeared to be on the right path, and the Council appreciated his hard work. Mace Windu was obvious in his dislike of the compromise.

Qui-Gon snorted in derision. More and more he was realizing he served the Jedi less than he served the Force, and the Council was truly not as attuned to the Force as he was. It made him both sad and angry, and wondered when it was that the Council had fallen so far back that they no longer served the Force but themselves.

But if he was no longer much of a Jedi, did that make him a Sith?

Skittering away from that topic, Qui-Gon left the Jedi Councilors to their arguments and went to lunch.

* * *

Terrell led him to yet another new place, a wide balcony that had a table and chairs on it, off of one of the Empress' sitting rooms. It overlooked one of the many private gardens and was sunny and cheerful.

When he arrived, he found Bail and Obion already there, and Obion was hugging Bail tightly as the other man shook with emotion. Immediately concerned, briefly wondering why he didn't feel jealous this time, Qui-Gon put his hand on Bail's shoulder. "Bail?"

Obion's face was twisted into a mask of sympathy and pain. "There have been rumors, filtered through Coruscant, that... that..."

Qui-Gon picked up on it immediately, his heart sinking; Bail's father and mother were dead. "Rumors are usually just that: rumors. If there hasn't been confirmation, then there's no reason to assume the worst," he said, pitching his voice low and earnest, squeezing the shoulder under his hand. Bail was not much older than Obion and this had been a horrible time for them all.

"Melyta was in hysterics," Bail said, his voice thick. "It was one of the refugee ships full of children from Coruscant that just landed. The Seneschal took me aside and told me, and I thought we were speaking quietly enough but she overheard..."

"Dr. Pfelling is with her," Obion said over Bail's shoulder. His eyes were filled with pain for his friend.

"It's just a rumor until we have confirmation, Bail," Qui-Gon repeated, slowly. "There is no proof, because nothing is getting out of Alderaan save for that which the Dhro controls. Don't assume the worst."

Bail swallowed heavily and nodded. He took a deep, shaky breath and stepped away, his back to them, scrubbing his face with his hands. "I know. I know." As he straightened slowly, Qui-Gon could feel him try to control his emotions. Obion reached out and took Qui-Gon's hand.

Finally, Bail turned. His face was still pale, his eyes still ringed with bruises, but he was calm. "I'm sorry, Qui-Gon. It's been a rather difficult time for us."

"I understand." Qui-Gon reached out his free hand and clasped Bail's shoulder again. "These are truly dark days. But you are safe now, with friends."

"As safe as any of us gets," Obion added sadly, and all three of them sighed.

The Seneschal entered, pushing a cart before him. "Luncheon, Highnesses, Master Jinn. Shall I serve?"

Qui-Gon could tell Matrin had gone out of his way to tempt Bail to eat. To everything placed on the table, Bail blinked and after a moment, looked actually pleased and almost nostalgic. "You spoil me," he murmured, and Matrin smiled.

"It's my pleasure, Highness." Finished off-loading the meal, Matrin turned the cart around. "Just ring me if you need anything else," he said as he left them to eat.

Bail did eat, since both Qui-Gon and Obion did their best to distract him into it. Finally, they were lingering over beverages -- tea for Qui-Gon and ale for Bail and Obion -- and talking of inconsequential things, trying to forget their heavy responsibilities for a while.

"I was so surprised to see you here, Qui-Gon," Bail said at one point. "Obion told me the Jedi are working on a treaty with the Sith Empire?"

"Reluctantly, but yes," Qui-Gon replied with a smile. "My posting was foreseen, and when the Empress reached out to the Jedi, it finally dawned on us that the Force was insisting we actually listen. I've been hammering out the treaty for much of the last half year."

"It sounds like difficult work. Haven't the Jedi and the Sith Empire been enemies for centuries?"

"Millennia," Qui-Gon said with a wry grin. "No thanks to their absurd sense of humor, especially where costuming is concerned."

Obion nearly choked on his ale. Spluttering and laughing, he batted Bail's hands away. "You'll look fabulous in that costume. And besides, it'll give Master Windu a fit."

Bail was shaking his head. "You two are ridiculous. So tell me, when's the wedding?" he asked facetiously. 

To Qui-Gon's surprise, Obion blushed. It was enchanting. "Talk about putting Master Windu into fits," he murmured. To his surprise, he felt nothing but the _rightness_ of Bail's words. And that, more than anything else, scared him half to death.

* * *

Obion had a meeting with Maul and General Skora before they could meet for their daily session, so Qui-Gon took the rare free time to visit the main library, a place he hadn't had time to explore thoroughly, though he would have liked to. It was in a lower, mostly underground section of the palace, and it stretched for what seemed like miles. He was lucky Terrell seemed to know it well, leading him confidently to the place where the oldest of the records were kept. Qui-Gon kept his eyes forward and wished for blinkers -- his fingers itched to pick up some of the tomes he saw on the shelves they passed.

The area known as 'the stacks' was deeply within the massive room, in its own climate-controlled area. There was an actual airlock one had to go through in order to get into it, which helped to maintain a precise temperature and humidity, and that airlock was carefully monitored by security cameras and the archivists themselves. Permission was needed from them before entering, and there was usually one or two hovering about the place at any given time. There was also a box containing disposable nitrile gloves at the entrance; anyone entering to read must first don the gloves to keep skin oils off the delicate parchments. That explained why the ancient texts were so well preserved, and why they were such a draw to a scholar like Plo Koon.

Terrell waited outside while Qui-Gon entered. He immediately heard voices -- Plo's deep raspy one and Cliadle's beautiful alto. He followed them deeper into the room. 

"...Wish I could go to Selonia and see it," Cliadle was saying.

"I think that could be arranged, young lady." Plo's voice held a fondness that made Qui-Gon smile. If Cliadle had been a bit younger (and wasn't a Sith), Plo would undoubtedly be making her into his apprentice. "I believe Jocasta Nu, the librarian, will be coming here once my fellow Jedi return. If there is any way to have the Temple library here, she is it."

"Of course, you'll have to contend with that famous temper of hers," Qui-Gon said as he rounded a corner and found the two of them, sitting at a table littered with scrolls, books, parchments, datacrystals and readers.  They were both wearing ridiculously bright blue nitrile gloves.

Cliadle looked up at his words and smiled. "Master Qui-Gon! Master Plo has been letting me help him with his research, it's just fascinating!"

"I don't believe that 'letting you help' is the right phrase, my dear young lady," Plo said. "You have been of invaluable assistance to me."

"It sounds like you're going to miss our meditation session this afternoon, aren't you?" Qui-Gon smiled at her consternation.

"I'm sorry, I -- I could go..."

"It's all right. I heard from Aliamon before lunch, she can't attend either. So Obion and I will just have extra time to work on forms."

Cliadle blinked. "Ali said that? She can't attend?" She frowned. "That's odd."

"Why?" 

"Oh... she just... well, I guess it's not, the masquerade is tonight and I think she's gotten a bit caught up, but then again, that's her. She's been acting very oddly over the last few days, not that that's anything new. Everytime she gets a new boyfriend..." Cliadle kept frowning, though, as if in thought.

Resolving to speak to Aliamon at the party, Qui-Gon turned to Plo Koon. "I heard you wanted to see me?"

"Yes, Qui-Gon, I wanted to go over some of these things with you..."

What Plo had been investigating was the story around Kun's death. He'd found several half-completed records that appeared to be the journals of someone: who, he couldn't say. Cliadle thought it might be Nomi Sunrider, but there was no evidence to support her guess.

Plo asked him to try and find out more information on the Dhro and his cloned forces -- was there any evidence leading to their creation? The Empress had different sources of information than the Jedi did, had she heard anything about this? "This may be our most important clue to the identity of the Dark Force user or his apprentice," Plo told him. 

"I'll check with Maul, see if he has any information." Qui-Gon craned his neck to look at the parchment leaves laid out before Cliadle; he wasn't wearing gloves and didn't want to touch it. "Is that part of the text you're looking at?"

Cliadle nodded and turned the papers so Qui-Gon could see them better. They were handwritten, in a spidery scrawl faded yellow with age. "They were obviously removed from a book," she said, pointing out the jagged edges. "We know she kept meticulous journals, hand written, and the dates correspond properly. But there are leaves missing, there are pages and pages that appear to be missing, stuff that starts in the middle and seems to continue, but the continuation isn't there. Not only that, but we can't always find where they were originally removed from either."

Qui-Gon blinked. Leaves missing? As if someone had deliberately removed part of the journal?

Plo must have discerned Qui-Gon's thoughts; he nodded, slowly. "It points to a long-term plan, don't you think? A systematic disposal of anything incriminating."

It was a chilling notion. "Who is allowed in here, Cli?"

"Anyone in the palace, really. Mother doesn't want history to be controlled, she wants us to learn it. I used to live down here, practically, and there are archivists who maintain a lot of it, keep it in as good shape as possible."

So it could be anyone -- again, their clues were too broad. "I'll check with Maul and let you know. I don't suppose either of you could possibly be pried away from your research for anything as mundane as a party."

Cliadle giggled, glancing at Plo as she did. "I really don't like parties that much anyway, and I never did try to get a costume. Jay said he'd be glad to bring us food, Master Plo. We can eat at one of the tables in the main area."

"Try to get some sleep tonight, Cli. Your mother will not be happy with you if you stay up all night."

Qui-Gon left the two happily digging through ancient writings. So preoccupied he was that he almost missed the commotion in the hallways when they emerged from the library. Galer, Obion's page, went by at a dead run, back the way they had just been, but paused long enough to ask Qui-Gon to report to the staff meeting room at once. With a dread feeling in his stomach, Qui-Gon hurried over.

The other Jedi were already there, as was Obion, the Empress and Maul. The last greeted him with a grim nod. "Long range scanners have reported the Dhro's automated task force heading this way. We have also received notice, from the Jedi's intelligence, that the Mouth of the Dhro will be within hailing distance in two days."

Qui-Gon took a seat, surprised he was not surprised. "Have we any information why the droid forces are massing? That's contrary to his normal procedure, yes?"

"It is," Skora said in her gravelly voice. Plo Koon hurried into the room and was quietly briefed by Ka'Ran Da. Pages were racing in and out, bearing flimsiplast printout and datacrystals. "We're not sure what this means yet. Our armada is ready, but what our move should be is anyone's guess." She glanced at Maul. "I'm glad I was persuaded to set our ships at maneuvers away from the system."

"I think it's time for us to leave Corellia," Depa Billaba said. "We need to return to Selonia and begin our own preparations. We do not have the luxury of your particle shield, Exalted Majesty, but we do have other resources."

"The Empire extends its hands to the Jedi," the Empress said, her voice as grave as her eyes. "With or without the treaty, we will come to your aid should you need it."

Windu looked much less antagonistic than normal; in fact, he looked downright morose. Qui-Gon wondered where his temper had gone. "On behalf of the Jedi Council, I thank her Exalted Majesty and the Empire, in the sincere hope it will not come to that. The Jedi also thank her Exalted Majesty again for sheltering our children, the hope of the Jedi." Mace glanced at Qui-Gon, but for once wasn't angry or upset... he just looked sad. "We leave Master Jinn and Master Koon here in the Empire, in the hopes that diplomacy and study will solve that which warfare may not."

* * *

"Mother, we can't cancel the masquerade. This may be the last chance all of us have for some time to have fun, to forget what is coming. It's important to the Empire that we don't allow this to change our ways."

"Obion..."

They were in the same sitting room near the balcony where Obion, Bail and Qui-Gon had eaten lunch, though the group was far larger and the hour much later. The Empress' older children, Plo Koon, Queen Amidala, Prince Bail, Maul and General Skora were arranged around the room, and Obion was sitting next to his mother. Qui-Gon stood behind them. It had been an eventful afternoon, and now evening was approaching.

"He's right, Adi." Maul's voice was soft and resigned. "Don't cancel the party. That not only sends the wrong message, it will spread panic."

"Whose side are you on?" The look the Empress gave Maul was half amused, half troubled. She turned to Skora. "If we do indeed have the masquerade as planned, will it in any way impact the troops?"

"No." General Skora shook her head. "My troops are in readiness, and wouldn't be attending anyway. Have the party, Adi. Just retire a bit earlier than normal -- your absence will end things."

The Empress looked down at her hands. One of them was held tightly by her eldest son. "Very well," she finally said. "But first thing in the morning, we're moving the Jedi children to Mount Sunrider. Ali, you, Anikin and Maisen will go as well."

"No." Aliamon's voice was flat and hard. "Cli is staying, Obi's staying, I'm staying too. Send Ani and Maisen if you want, Mai is almost a Jedi anyway the way she's been behaving. But I will not go."

Everyone in the room had turned the moment Aliamon began speaking. Obion's jaw dropped and the Empress sat up straight. This was so unlike the Aliamon Qui-Gon had come to know that he frowned, wondering why she had changed. He'd had no time over the last several days to work with the elder heirs on their Force acuity, and it had seemed, lately, that Aliamon was even avoiding him. 

"You will do as I tell you, Eldest Daughter," the Empress said with a frown. "Cliadle is staying only because Master Koon needs her; as soon as possible, she will be joining you."

"Mother, I'm telling you..."

"We will discuss this later, Eldest Daughter. In private." Qui-Gon could see both women's faces in profile and was struck by the similarities between them: both strong women with huge stubborn streaks. He decided he wouldn't want to be anywhere around either of them for that little discussion, though he definitely wanted to speak with Aliamon one-on-one. Soon.

Glancing back at Obion, Qui-Gon was surprised to see a frown on his face as he studied his sister. Before he could ask about it, however, the Empress spoke again. "Very well. The masquerade goes as planned. The Jedi have already left, and my Seneschal is even now preparing for the move to Mount Sunrider. Padme, dear, I'd like you and Bail, with his sisters to accompany the children to the shelter. There will be need for strong discipline there, and I don't think Anikin would forgive me if I sent him without you."

Queen Amidala colored slightly. "I hate to be cut off like that, but yes, I'll go. I understand and agree with your reasoning."

"I suppose I understand as well," Bail said. His voice was sour but tired. "Are we certain this shelter is safe?"

"As safe as any place on Corellia is," Maul replied. "It has its own power generator and shield, as well as enough resources to last almost a century. It has been used for millennia by the Sith as a last stand; it will hold against the Dhro. It will only fail when all else has fallen."

"A pleasant thought," Obion muttered, and Qui-Gon squeezed his shoulder.

"We shall then try to enjoy ourselves tonight, and let tomorrow do as it will." The Empress swallowed and glanced over her shoulder at Qui-Gon. "Don't the Jedi have a saying that we should all live in the moment?"

"Yes, we do," Qui-Gon said with a sad smile. "We can do little to affect tomorrow, it will come, no matter what." Once again, he squeezed Obion's shoulder, and smiled when Obi looked up at him. Tonight was also the third night of their 'Three Nights' and Qui-Gon wondered what would happen. He had hopes, but hopes could be dashed.

But there was a promise in Obion's eyes that gave him more hope, perhaps, than he had a right to claim.

* * *

There was no pulling into janitor's closets this time, though Obion did follow Qui-Gon back to his rooms. "I have something I'd like to show you," he said, when Qui-Gon asked. 

Galer was already waiting for them at Qui-Gon's door; he was carrying a small box. "Thanks, Galer, you're dismissed for the evening. Enjoy yourself tonight."

"Thank you, Highness," Galer smiled at Qui-Gon and Terrell before dashing back down the hallway. 

Obion carried the box in and waited until Qui-Gon had spoken with and dismissed both Bellen and Terrell.

"So, what do you have to show me?" Qui-Gon let himself be pulled down to the sofa and kissed, quite thoroughly. "Besides this?" Qui-Gon murmured between kisses.

"I missed our workout time," Obion said breathlessly, then he groaned when Qui-Gon began kissing his neck. "I've missed you."

"You saw me most of the day," Qui-Gon said, while privately agreeing. Was this what love was? Wanting to be near the object of your affections all the time, every day?

"And we're not going to the masquerade if we don't stop," Obion replied, though he showed no interest in actually stopping. He had one hand tangled in Qui-Gon's hair and the other caressing the skin that showed in the V of Qui-Gon's tunics. 

Qui-Gon put his arms around Obion's waist and pulled him closer, until Obion was almost on his lap. When he groaned again, Obion left his lips and began nipping along his neck, under his beard, tasting and sighing. "Obi..."

"You taste so damn good..." Obion left off his assault on Qui-Gon's neck in favor of resting his forehead on Qui-Gon's shoulder, burying his nose in Qui-Gon's tunics, breathing deeply. 

They panted for a few moments, each trying to calm down. Finally, with a last squeeze, Qui-Gon encouraged Obion to move away slightly, sit up better. It was difficult, but he managed. "I don't understand how this is possible," he murmured, smoothing Obion's hair off his damp forehead. "I feel like a padawan, still learning to control my emotions."

"I've had love affairs before," Obion said, avoiding Qui-Gon's eyes. "I know I told you, but... I even thought I was in love, once. But it was nothing like this. Nothing. When I'm with you, it feels so strong, so _right_ that it... it scares me, a little."

"You know you don't have to tell me anything about your past, love," Qui-Gon said. 

"I want you to know." Obion looked at Qui-Gon, earnestly studying his face. "I want to know everything about you, and it's only fair you should know everything about me." He looked down again. "Mother and I have talked about love, sometimes, and she's talked about my father, and how much she loved him. When he was killed, she said it was like a part of her died. That's... that's how I would feel, if something happened to you." He swallowed. "And that's what scares me the most." 

Touched, Qui-Gon couldn't tell if he wanted to laugh or cry. Luckily for him, Obion spoke again before he could decide. "We need to start getting ready soon. But first, I wanted to show you this." He opened the box and Qui-Gon gasped: nestled within, on a bed of blue satin, was a lightsaber.

"When did you have time?" he said incredulously.

Obion shrugged. "It wasn't hard. You told me a lot of what I needed to know, and after I looked at Nomi Sunrider's, I knew what to do." He gave Qui-Gon a rather shy smile. "It looks all right, then?"

Picking it up, Qui-Gon inspected it carefully. He could see where the casing would still need some work, but that was mostly cosmetic. He pressed on the release catch and the handle opened perfectly, showing the wiring and the cradles carrying the two different stones. Gently, he pulled the Ilum sapphire out and looked carefully at its cradle, then did the same with the grossulite. The points were filed perfectly and the internal wiring looked flawless. Looking back up, into Obion's hopeful face, he couldn't hide his proud surprise. "It looks perfect."

Obion beamed. "I haven't tested it yet..."

"Good." Qui-Gon carefully closed the casing and returned it to its box. "There's a reason why we have specially shielded rooms for testing new lightsabers. Even the eldest and most experienced masters can err in construction. We'll need to find a place to test this, but it looks beautiful."

"You mean... it could blow up?" Obion didn't look so much alarmed as thoughtful.

"Yes, it could. The resonance between the crystals has to be carefully calibrated. Now, on this one, I think you'll have no reason to worry, because these crystals have been used successfully before." He closed the case and handed it back. "We'll find a place to test it tomorrow. Your mother would be very upset with me if I allowed your arm to be blown off."

Obion laughed. He accepted the box, placed it carefully on the table in front of the sofa and launched himself back into Qui-Gon's arms. Almost before Qui-Gon could think, they were horizontal, Obion on top of him, kissing him passionately. Obion was wearing a loose tunic tucked into black pants -- with a tug, Qui-Gon pulled the shirt out and pushed his hands beneath it, seeking warm skin. Murmuring his approval as Qui-Gon's hand swept up and down his back, Obion let his legs fall to either side of Qui-Gon's, which put one of his booted feet on the floor with a solid _clunk_. They both chuckled, repositioned themselves a bit and kept kissing, let their tongues caress and taste and play while the heat between their bodies grew almost scalding. Qui-Gon had the absurd notion the sofa would catch fire soon.

Things might have gone completely out of hand had there not been a knock at the door. Obion whimpered. "Not fair," he murmured. The caller knocked again, more insistently. "If it's Maul, I'll... I'll..."

"No, you won't," Qui-Gon said with a breathless chuckle. "We have to get ready for the masquerade anyway."

With a huge sigh that made him sound like Anikin, Obion forced himself to move away, to stand, though he didn't let go of Qui-Gon's hand. With the lack of heat on his body, Qui-Gon shivered in a sudden chill. Obion straightened his clothes, helped Qui-Gon to a sitting position, then with another sigh, went to the door. "Captain Sarin?"

The young officer wasn't smirking, but even from the sofa, Qui-Gon could see the twinkle in his eye. Despite his attempt at recovery, Obion still looked freshly ravished and the look was definitely good on him. 

"Maul's compliments, Highness, I'm to be your bodyguard from now on. I know it's not comfortable for you," he continued over Obion's dropped jaw and in-drawn breath, "but it's orders, Highness. Lieutenant Dray here is to be the revered Jedi's bodyguard."

Now it was Qui-Gon's turn to be aghast. "Captain, I assure you..."

Obion spoke at the same moment. "This is absurd..."

Obion turned to Qui-Gon and they both burst out laughing. With a shake of his head and a snort in resignation, Obion turned back to the guardsman. "Maul's paranoia. Mother is always complaining about it. Very well, Captain. You can escort me to my rooms, where I need to freshen up and change. But first..." Obion turned and walked back to Qui-Gon, very deliberately pulling Qui-Gon's lips to his in a last, hungry kiss. "Soon," he whispered. "Drop off a change of clothing at my rooms before you meet me," he added, and Qui-Gon was surprised to find himself almost blushing.

* * *

Lieutenant Dray was a pleasant young man who could bring himself to call Qui-Gon 'Master Jinn' but couldn't use his given name. It was better than 'revered Jedi' though, so Qui-Gon left it at that.

Qui-Gon showered and freshened up before donning his costume, and surprised himself by actually looking forward to the dance. On top of his costume lay a note and several blue and white silken ribbons. The note was from Bellen, describing how the ribbons were to be placed in his hair; basically, he was to braid it loosely, twining the ribbons into the braid and using them to tie it off. 

It sounded absurd, but he knew Bellen would be unhappy with him if he didn't do it.

Within an hour, he was ready to go. His provided costume fit him perfectly, but he found one thing disconcerting: the tightness of the pants meant he couldn't wear underclothes. While that might be an interesting thing for later on, in the meantime, it was highly embarrassing.

He made up a bundle of clothing and toiletries and had Lieutenant Dray detour to Obion's rooms before they headed down to the public ballroom, where the party would start. 

It had taken Qui-Gon all of his tenure in the palace to explore the enormous place, and there were still rooms -- like the main library -- that he had only inspected cursorily. The building was like a small city, and walking its corridors was sheer exercise. He'd often overheard the palace maintenance staff jokingly request skates, carts, and even shuttles in order to properly maintain it.

The public ballroom, which was what seemed like leagues from the private wing, was a beautiful sight for the last night of Mummer's Fete. Draped in billowing silks of gold, white, blue and green, the room was lit by enormous chandeliers. Their light was reflected and doubled by the highly polished mirrors and floor-to-ceiling windows which overlooked Corellia's capital city. 

Anyone who was anyone on the planet was at the public ball, which meant the room was jammed with thousands of people. The Empress was on the throne in the middle of the room, on a raised dais against the wall, and for this occasion, she wore a beautifully ornate tiara. Her dress was blindingly white with a blue and gold sash across her body -- the colors of the Clan Kenobi, Qui-Gon had learned, were blue and gold. Obion was sitting next to her, and as soon as Qui-Gon saw the heir, his mouth went dry.

He was wearing the same clothing as Qui-Gon, only his vest was blue-green and covered with shells and seed pearls. He wore green and white ribbons in his hair, very much like Qui-Gon's, and while they looked absurd on Qui-Gon, on Obion, they looked splendid. Or perhaps Qui-Gon was prejudiced.

The Empress saw him first, and a slow smile spread across her face. She turned and drew Obion's attention to Qui-Gon, and Qui-Gon watched the same smile blossom -- save that Obion's had a distinctly smoky air about it. He rose and actually _sauntered_ to the edge of the dais, where he hopped down, eschewing the steps and no doubt causing several nearby revelers to swoon. Qui-Gon was almost oblivious to anything else, though: he stood and watched as Obion prowled towards him, hoping the room could stand the heat they were going to generate when they touched. On the periphery of his consciousness, he heard the band begin to play the anthem of the Sith Empire.

"You look incredible," Obion said as he came to a halt just outside Qui-Gon's reach. The look he gave Qui-Gon -- down, slowly, and even more slowly back up -- was incendiary. 

"Not as good as you look," Qui-Gon replied hoarsely. 

"Come up and do your duty to Mother, then we're going to dance." Obion turned and there was nothing in the known galaxy that could have prevented Qui-Gon from following that perfectly formed ass. The knowledge that Obion was probably bare under his skin-tight leather pants did nothing for Qui-Gon's composure.

The Empress was rising and her smile turned into a smirk as she saw them approach. "Good of you to join us, revered Jedi. I hope you had no difficulties with your costume. It makes you look positively edible."

"Mother!" Obion's scandalized and embarrassed outburst sent the Empress into giggles she could not control, though she seemed to try.

"I am so pleased I can still embarrass you in public, Eldest Son and Heir." She took Obion's hand and squeezed it. Mother and son exchanged warm, watery smiles, and Qui-Gon realized if they hadn't been in public, they would have embraced. "It pleases my heart to see thee happy, my son. May this happiness stay with thee in all the coming days of thy life and thy heart's life."

Her words, which had the air of a ritual about them, were accompanied by a huge Force surge that nearly knocked Qui-Gon down; he had a tendency to forget just how Force strong the Empress was. He made a mental note to look the words up later, especially after seeing the puzzled and stricken look on Obion's face as he heard them. But not now: the band was still playing, but the song was closing, and the Empress was reaching for his hand.

The last strains of the song ended to a huge, room-shaking hurrah by the occupants. The Empress smiled and stood proudly at the edge of the dais, flanked by her son and Qui-Gon. "Citizens of the Empire!" Another loud acclamation greeted her words and she held her head high, every inch the regal Empress. "This night is yours to take. There will be dark deeds in the coming year, and the wolf is already at our door. But this evening, we bid that wolf howl alone, leave us be, for we are the Sith Empire, and the Empire bows to no one! So take this night, revel in it, and know your work tomorrow will be made all the sweeter by the joy you make tonight!"

A simple speech, but effective, and one that caused much cheering. The band began playing and dancers began to move right where they were, with a great deal of noisy abandon. The Empress turned and drew the two men flanking her together, putting their hands she held together. "You are quite the matched set, you two. Go enjoy. Obion have you... Oh, no."

The laughter left her eyes as she spotted something, and both Qui-Gon and Obion turned to see what it was. Aliamon had just entered the room, on the arm of a flushed and distinctly unhappy Terrell Benk and followed closely by a palace guard. Her costume was more _not there_ than _there_ , and Qui-Gon sighed. 

If she wanted to disappoint her mother, if she wanted to embarrass the royal family, she had definitely chosen the right way to do it. Her costume consisted of wispy folds of cloth, in a lavender that most definitely did not match her coloring, strategically placed and pinned, buttoned or perhaps glued on, giving the impression the whole thing would come apart at any moment. Though it wasn't his place to note it, Qui-Gon felt a wave of sympathy for the Empress and for the obviously mortified Terrell Benk, and anger at Aliamon for such a display.

Her display was making quite an impression on the crowd: they gravitated towards her and her self-satisfied smirk told tales on what she wanted to accomplish. Qui-Gon felt awful for the Empress, and decided (once again) to try and get a good conversation going with Aliamon as soon as possible.

"Mother, don't." Qui-Gon was the only other one close enough to hear Obion speak, and he turned to see the Empress' expression flat and set. "She's doing it on purpose. Let her. She'll only end up putting herself down."

"She is too young to..."

"She's older than I was when I lost my virginity." Obion smiled sadly. "Let it go."

The Empress shook her head. "I don't know what's gotten into her over the last few days, she's been ignoring me or has been argumentative or worse. Maybe it's just her age; though if that's it, then I pray I won't have to go through it with Cliadle."

"You won't." They shared smiles.

"When did you turn into such a wise man, Obi?" his mother asked, cupping his cheek with one hand.

"My mother helped."

She laughed and, with one more sad and disappointed look at her eldest daughter, turned to go to her seat. Obion grabbed Qui-Gon's hand again. "I refuse to let my sister ruin this evening for me. You and I are about to dance."

And dance they did... they danced in the public ballroom and then later, in the private celebration, only stopping to eat and drink to replenish their energy. They danced even after Aliamon was removed (early, to her displeasure, by her mother and her security guards). They danced until their guards were exhausted, until the band was forced to stop, until nothing but heat remained between them.

Qui-Gon noticed things other than the beautiful man in his arms, though. He noticed the faint air of hysteria among the throngs at the public party, and how often they turned towards the Empress, as if asking their mother if things would be all right in the morning. He noticed the words of disapproval aimed at Aliamon and her costume, and, to his surprise, the air of approval and acceptance towards the Jedi in general and himself in specific. He noticed how much the citizens of the Empire loved the heir, and how much that heir cared for his people -- and with a sentimental start, he realized it only made him love Obion more.

And he noticed how Obion would speak to others, but look at him. How, when asked a question of political or governing importance, he would often ask Qui-Gon's opinion before giving his own. He noticed how much Obion had changed in the months since Qui-Gon had come to live in the land of his enemies, and how much those enemies had made themselves into his people.

Finally, when it was very late, long after the first to leave but still before those who would party until the dawn, they collected their bodyguards and went back to Obion's rooms, arm in arm, and Obion's head was warm and familiar on Qui-Gon's shoulder. Their guards did a sweep of the rooms, then left, promising to stay close by, something Qui-Gon still found absurd. He _was_ a Jedi master, after all, and should be able to protect himself.

Though, upon reflection, he admitted he hadn't done a very good job at protecting his heart.

It was different this night, and they knew it. They had spent three long days and two short nights contemplating how different this night would be, and though Qui-Gon was surprised to feel nervous, he supposed that was normal, as well. 

Their bodies were familiar territory by now, but Qui-Gon's fingers itched to discover new terrain. Obion turned the lights in the room down and, with a smile, removed his heavy vest. Qui-Gon removed his as well... they were too beautiful to treat roughly.

But removing the vests meant they were only clad in skin-tight leather breeches and soft, low boots, and once Obion kicked those off, there was nothing left but to look, and Qui-Gon wanted to look his fill. Obion was beautiful in the low light, his compact, wiry body gleaming with sweat from their exertions, his eyes shadowed and hot. He was beautiful. Beautiful.

"You don't have to just look, you know," Obion whispered. "You can touch."

"So can you."

Could it be possible the enviro controls were broken, making the room even hotter? Even though neither of them seemed to be able to speak in voices louder than a whisper, their bodies were shouting, leaning, _reaching_ for each other, gravitating together like twin suns. Bemused, Qui-Gon watched his hand reach out for Obion's, watched as the two touched and mated, fingers entwining. Obion's skin was warm.

"Do you want this?" Obion asked, and instinctively, Qui-Gon knew he was asking far more than the words implied. 

"Yes." Closing the short distance between them took effort, but Qui-Gon managed. He knew that to touch further, to feel that wonderful, soft skin, he'd have to get closer, even though it meant not being able to see as well. Heedless of the thought, he bent his head and closed his eyes -- who needed sight when they had touch? -- and brushed his lips over Obion's, igniting every nerve in his body. Obion moaned softly and the sound left Qui-Gon desperate for air.

They both stepped closer, and Obion wrapped one arm around Qui-Gon's shoulders, tugging on the back of his neck, and Qui-Gon encircled Obion's waist and drew them even tighter. There was a leather-clad bulge pressing against his thigh, nearly burning its way through the leather, and it was his turn to groan when Obion rubbed against him, like a cat.

The feel, the taste; he had his tongue in Obion's mouth now, was pressing the shorter man to himself as though to glue them together forever. Obion's body was trembling, a fine, almost unnoticeable thing -- or perhaps it was his own body trembling, Qui-Gon couldn't be sure. What he was sure of, however, was that much more of this and he would come until he came apart.

"Wait... wait..." Talking was difficult with your tongue in someone's mouth. He used his hands to gentle Obion, to soothe as well as feel, and Obion groaned again.

"No..." The sound was perilously close to a whimper. "Don't want to wait, waited too long. Now... now, please!"

"Oh... no... just..." It was both their bodies trembling, Qui-Gon could tell now. He tore their lips apart and buried his nose in Obion's hair, whispering into his ear. "Want to go slower, need to go slower, won't hurt you..."

"You won't... you won't..." Obion was gulping air roughly. "Trust you... want you..."

"Sweet Force..." With sudden resolve, Qui-Gon slid to his knees before Obion, needing to reclaim the moment, somehow, some way. His shaking fingers worked at the laces of Obion's pants while Obion whimpered and alternated between petting his head and grabbing at his shoulders. Finally, the knot was undone and the sweet-smelling leather burst open, the pressure from Obion's erection parting the folds of material.

The scent of leather and concentrated Obion was almost enough to bring Qui-Gon to a climax right there, but he forced himself back from the brink, grabbed himself through the leather and squeezed roughly. When he felt more in control, he opened eyes he hadn't realized were closed and breathed in, slowly. Obion's penis was rigid before him, the dark purple head peeking out through the foreskin and damp with pre-come. It was as beautiful as the rest of him, and Qui-Gon had to taste. It was something he'd only done once before, but he knew, he had to have the taste of Obion.

It was even better than he had dreamed. Salty and sweet, made even sweeter by the mewling noises coming from above him, telling him he was doing well. It was awkward; he wanted to make it so good for Obion, but in his enthusiasm he had forgotten how difficult it was. 

Apparently, however, he was doing well enough; with a particularly strong shudder and a garbled shout of warning or pleasure -- or both -- Obion went rigid and came down Qui-Gon's throat in pulses of hot, molten seed. Reflexively swallowing, Qui-Gon found himself surprised at the bitterness of the taste, but knew it was a flavor he would grow old desiring.

Obion's knees buckled and Qui-Gon caught him, thankful the bed was near enough to put them both down on the edge of it, since his own knees felt none too strong. Obion sagged against him and Qui-Gon gave in to temptation and kissed him again, letting Obion taste himself in Qui-Gon's mouth. They ended up lying side-by-side on the bed, kissing languorously, and Obion's muscles were soft and lax but still strong enough to draw Qui-Gon to him.

"Not fair," Obion finally whispered as their long, sloppy kiss became smaller, affectionate pecks. "You've already turned my brain to mush and I haven't had a chance to even touch you."

"You touch me," Qui-Gon murmured in reply. "In every way possible, you touch me."

Obion smiled and in the dim light, his eyes glimmered. "I want to touch you now, really touch you. May I?"

"Always."

Rearing above him, Obion propped himself on one arm and looked down at Qui-Gon. The young man looked thoroughly debauched and utterly gorgeous, and Qui-Gon lifted his hand to touch back but Obion caught it, tucked it down by Qui-Gon's side. "It's my turn," he said with a devilish smile.

Qui-Gon had to grab fistfuls of the bedspread in order to keep from lifting his hands as Obion delicately explored him from the top of his head down. Gentle fingers traced Qui-Gon's eyebrows and nose, along his cheekbones and around his eyes. Bending down, Obion kissed then licked around Qui-Gon's earlobe, making Qui-Gon shake.

His beard, his chin and neck were carefully, thoroughly explored, with fingers and mouth, as was his arm and hand. Obion apparently knew better than to lick or suck any of his fingers, which both disappointed Qui-Gon and relieved him. Then Obion went back to his chest, and Qui-Gon tensed.

Delicately, Obion traced over Qui-Gon's right nipple with his fingernail, and Qui-Gon hissed, fighting to keep from arching into that soft touch. "Tell me how you like it, Qui-Gon," Obion whispered.

"Harder," Qui-Gon managed to say through gritted teeth. "You don't have to be gentle, pinch them hard, like... ungh. Force, yes!"

"Like this, then?" Obion pinched the tiny nub between his thumb and forefinger, catching it beneath his nail briefly. 

Qui-Gon very nearly came. "Stop... too much... Can't..." He managed to catch Obion's hand as it went to the other nipple. "You're going to make me come... I don't want to come this way. I want... want to come with you inside. Inside me. Please."

"Oh, ancestors," Obion muttered, ducking his head and closing his eyes. "I don't want to hurt you either, Qui..."

"There's oil, there, on the table." And there was, though Obion seemed surprised to see it. "And I need to get out of these pants before I lose circulation to my lower body." His gasping words cleared as he backed himself off the edge once more, promising his body a lovely, long fall, just _not yet._

Obion chuckled breathlessly. "I know the feeling." They both sat up and Qui-Gon stole a long kiss before they began to peel themselves out of their pants. 

Both had gone without underclothes, just as Qui-Gon had expected. It was a hilarious task getting undressed, and both of them laughed long and hard at the absurdity of the situation. "Just another reason never to wear leather trous," Obion said at one point, taking a break from trying to peel leather from sweaty legs.

"But you look so good in them," Qui-Gon said, trying and failing not to laugh.

Finally, they were both bare, and Obion's erection was back to full strength. As they stretched out on the bed, Qui-Gon took it in his hand, admiring the hot feel of it. "You're younger than I am; I go off once and that will probably be the end of the evening for me."

"Oh, no it won't," Obion said confidently, though he also had an abashed smile. "My first lover taught me... an erection isn't necessary to enjoy yourself in bed. I see ten fingers and a tongue from here, and that's all I need. Well, that, as long as they're attached to you." 

Obion's words were soft and earnest, and Qui-Gon smiled helplessly to hear them. "My wise lover..."

"Your only lover," Obion growled, and now his smile was totally proprietary. He looked Qui-Gon up and down and let his hand drift over hot skin and pinch a nipple again, apparently just to see Qui-Gon's reaction. "Mine."

"Yours." Qui-Gon brought his knees up and spread himself widely, wantonly. "Please, Obion. I need to feel you..."

"Yes..." Obion quickly situated himself between Qui-Gon's bent knees and opened the bottle of oil, splashing a bit of it on the coverlet in his haste. For a moment, he closed his eyes and breathed deeply, centering, calming himself. "You will tell me if I hurt you," he whispered after a hard swallow.

"It'll be fine, just go slow," Qui-Gon replied, breathing deeply himself, telling certain muscles to relax and enjoy the ride. And then Obion's finger was pressing into him and all bets were off. 

It was a revelation, a religion; it was the finest thing Qui-Gon had ever done, had ever felt. He should have felt embarrassed at the completely childish noises he was making, but he didn't, he couldn't. All he could feel was Obion, in him and around him everywhere, surrounding and claiming him. Two fingers became three and it was tight, there was a slight pain, but he breathed through it, keeping his eyes on Obion, who was looking down at him with wide-eyed astonishment.

Then the fingers were removed but before he could mourn their departure, something else took their place. Obion was shaking and he was shaking and there was something in his eyes, something that made them water, but he could still see through them, could see Obion's face grow slack with pleasure as he began to thrust, hitting the wonderful sweet spot inside Qui-Gon over and over and over...

The last thing Qui-Gon saw before his world went white and exploded was Obion's face, staring down at him with incredulous, almost disbelieving joy. 

* * *

In the deepest part of the night, long after the moons had set and when even the stars began to dim, Qui-Gon had a dream which jerked him out of his sated, incredibly happy sleep. His abrupt movement caused Obion to mutter and reach for him, pull him back down. Qui-Gon went readily, not even remembering the dream save for seeing the malevolent glow of a blood-red lightsaber.

* * *


	9. Chapter 9

**CHAPTER NINE**

Qui-Gon woke feeling a little sore the next morning, but the smile on his face simply could not be erased. For the rest of the day, every time he met Obion's eyes, they both smiled and had to look away before embarrassing themselves. 

When Obion's alarm woke them, they were still wrapped in each other's arms and ragingly hard. Qui-Gon couldn't recall a time when he had woken so erect, though the company he was keeping must have helped. They kissed good morning, then kissed hello, then kissed just for the sake of tasting each other, heedless of any morning breath. Obion was beginning to grind himself into Qui-Gon when Qui-Gon had a sudden thought. Acting quickly, he jumped out of bed and before Obion could squawk, tugged him out of bed as well. He took them both to the 'fresher and turned on the water in the huge shower stall, getting them both into it and then pushing Obion up against the wall.

"I like the way you think," Obion gasped, then he groaned as Qui-Gon lifted him and encouraged Obion to wrap his legs around his waist. Their mouths and erections were much closer to each other this way, and as the hot spray from several different faucets played over them, they kissed, hard and sloppy. The slickness of the water on them inflamed Qui-Gon, and apparently did the same for Obion, for he began writhing and groaning, arching from the wall to bring his body impossibly closer to Qui-Gon's, trying to rub his erection against Qui-Gon's. 

Qui-Gon had his hands under Obion's bottom to support him, and, breaking the kiss -- the better to see his lover -- he allowed one finger to rub gently over the entrance to Obion's body. Obion's eyes nearly bugged out of their sockets and his whole body jerked as he gave a strangled yelp and came, banging his head against the tile wall behind him. It was a gorgeous sight, Obion in the throes of orgasm, and it was all Qui-Gon needed to push him over the edge as well. He buried his face in Obion's neck and whimpered.

After a few moments, Obion's legs slid down Qui-Gon's and his feet landed with a plop on the floor. He was able to support himself sufficiently, which was a good thing since Qui-Gon wasn't sure how much longer he could support them both; his own legs felt rubbery. They held each other under the spray of water, simply hugging tightly, reluctant to let go even though they knew they had to.

"Tonight," Obion said, so quietly that Qui-Gon almost couldn't hear him, "will you take me? I want to feel it the right way, Qui. I want to feel you. Please?"

To Qui-Gon's shock, at Obion's words, his cock twitched with a valiant attempt to rise. That was indication enough, he thought, though he still had reservations -- he didn't know if Obion were actually over the pain of what Palpatine did to him. "Yes. Yes of course, if that's what you want." He kissed the warm, wet neck beneath his mouth. "I love you," he whispered, not sure and not caring whether Obion could hear him.

* * *

They were late for breakfast. Too proper to hold hands in the corridor, Qui-Gon did take Obion's hand when they walked into the room filled with family, squeezing it once. He wasn't sure who he was reassuring, himself or Obion, because as soon as they entered the room, almost everyone turned. The Empress, Maul and Cliadle looked absolutely delighted at seeing them together, and Qui-Gon fought to keep his face from heating. The younger children smiled and Ani had a hug for both of them, but Aliamon was sitting on a window ledge, turned away from the room and obviously brooding. She didn't even turn as they came in and Qui-Gon frowned, remembering his pledge to himself the evening before. Any suspicious behavior among the heirs should be looked into: the stakes with the Dark Force user were far too high.

They sat to eat and to chat, embracing the normality of the situation, aware that too soon, things would happen to take normality away. Qui-Gon teased Cliadle gently, saying he was surprised to see her at breakfast since he figured she would still be in the library.

"Master Plo made me leave last night, and I wasn't really that tired," Cliadle said defensively. Her words were ruined by a massive yawn, though, and even she laughed at that. 

With visible regret, the Empress turned to more serious matters. She gathered everyone in the room around her -- Aliamon stayed on her window seat but at least turned to face the room. "My loves, it pains me to do this, but I have to see to it you're kept safe. The Jedi children and their tutors are going to Mount Sunrider this morning, and Maisen, Anikin, you'll be going with them."

Anikin immediately protested, but Maisen only blinked and looked thoughtful. "I know, Ani my love, but I must ensure your safety. And anyway, Padme is going, with the Queen, Bail and Bail's sisters. All those females will need the steadying weight of a man's voice, and Bail will need your help."

The Empress' distraction didn't work well. Anikin looked as though he were ready to cry at any moment. "But, Mam... who's going to look after you if I go?"

Obion immediately knelt next to his half-brother, hugging him tightly. "I'll make sure she's safe, Ani, I promise. And Master Qui-Gon, and Maul, we'll all look after her. We need you to help look after the Jedi children, Ani. And Padme, and Bail's sisters."

Nodding slowly, Anikin's face was still unhappy. "I don't want to go, Obi. I'm... I'm scared. Something's going to happen, and... and..." He ripped himself from Obion's embrace and ran to his mother, climbing on her lap and hugging her hard. The Empress looked distressed as she tried to soothe her son.

His comfort came from an unexpected source. "It's all right, Ani." Maisen was next to the chair, and her mother reached out to draw her into the embrace. "It'll be fine, you'll see. The tutors say the future is always in motion, and all we can do is our best. This way, we'll both get to learn the dances, and pretend we're Jedi, like Master Qui-Gon."

It was the closest to crying Qui-Gon had ever seen the Empress get, as Maisen spoke The family pulled together, and Qui-Gon was both surprised and incredibly touched that they considered him one of them, that they wanted him to be one with them. He glanced at the window and saw Aliamon's face twisted in pain, but she would not join the embrace.

* * *

The day was long and tedious, with much to prepare for and pockets of frantic activity. The Dhro's task force was, for all intents and purposes, stationary, and had not entered the Corellian system. Skora, Maul and Obion had their hands full keeping tabs on it, since they wouldn't allow the Corellian forces to engage -- yet. The children, well, Maisen and Anikin, were shuttled to Mount Sunrider, along with such guardsmen Maul trusted to keep them safe. Qui-Gon heard about the argument of rather epic proportions between the Empress and her eldest daughter over the move, and was relieved not to have actually witnessed it. The upshot was Aliamon was indeed going to Mount Sunrider, but not until Cliadle did. Once again Qui-Gon tried to figure out when he would have time to speak privately with Aliamon, and once again hurtling events distracted him from it.

Qui-Gon did find the time to say goodbye to the children and the older Jedi embarking to Mount Sunrider. He stood in the palace's ship port, watching the corvette depart for the mountain with something akin to trepidation, though he didn't know the source and again, had no time to examine it properly. Anikin had hugged him fiercely before climbing aboard the ship, begging him to look after the Empress, and Qui-Gon had promised. Maisen also hugged him, to his surprise, before boarding. The ship that took them away left from the same place where the Jedi had landed and left, which was now the place where the Mouth of the Dhro would land. 

Plo Koon was grateful for the delay, since he and Cliadle seemed to be making excellent progress in their studies. Qui-Gon visited at mid-day and ate lunch with them, as Plo updated him on the situation, both trying to find out what happened to Kun's body and who had been mutilating the archives. Cliadle's bodyguard stayed with Plo's bodyguard just outside the door to the stacks, and since there was only one way into the room, that should have reassured Qui-Gon of their safety. Oddly, it did not, but he had no time to examine the feeling.

The most difficult part of the day Qui-Gon was very happy to have missed: the funerary arrangements for Roberd Palpatine. His family, Clan Sidious, showed up en masse with letters of protest to the Empress. They (of course) blamed Qui-Gon for his death and demanded reparations from both the Empire and the Jedi. Apparently, the chief family representative walked into the room fairly bristling with antagonism, but was surprised to find Maul standing next to the Empress and the Heir, his arms crossed, his face utterly impassive. The Empress was using the intimidation factor of the throne, and had a smaller seat for Obion placed on the same dais. By design, there had been no place for any others to sit.

The negotiations were over very quickly, once the representative realized the Empress was half a step away from demanding reparations from the clan for Palpatine's attempt on Obion's life. Protests went under in the face of Maul's displeasure, and the clan finally settled for a state funeral and the return of all the lands Palpatine had held in trust or had turned over to the Empire. 

All this Qui-Gon heard second-hand from Obion and Maul. They stole an hour in the day in order to test Obion's lightsaber, something that pleased Maul no end. He had been thrilled to see Obion's 'saber, though Qui-Gon hadn't a clue why. 

They chose a room in one of the sub-basements of the palace, one Maul had modified years before with thick shielding. When Qui-Gon concentrated and put a Force containment around the new 'saber, Maul frowned at him, then closed his eyes and concentrated as well. Qui-Gon felt his shielding reinforced with Maul's less steady focus, and smiled.

The 'saber worked perfectly, igniting a spectacular dark purple blade. Obion had placed the crest of Clan Kenobi on it, but there were still areas that would need improvement on the case, and Qui-Gon pointed them out. "You'll probably want to go with a leather grip here, so that your calluses will develop properly."

"I'd suggest a bit more filing down here and here," Maul added, inspecting the handle as carefully as Qui-Gon had. "The blade is beautiful -- what's it made of?"

"He re-used the stones from Nomi Sunrider's 'saber," Qui-Gon said, trying not to sound proud but failing. "It's an Ilum sapphire and a grossulite." 

"Particularly apt," Maul murmured, and Qui-Gon shot him a puzzled look. "I've got a few minutes before I have to meet with General Skora, Qui-Gon. Would you like to do some free-form sparring?"

The smile on Qui-Gon's face grew. "I'd love to." 

Qui-Gon and Obion were already dressed for sparring and Maul wore his customary leathers. He took his 'saber from his belt and ignited one side. "I can't dial down very far with both blades, so it'll have to be just the one."

"Some day, I'd like to spar with you when you've got them both lit," Qui-Gon said, igniting his own 'saber and bowing.

Obion stood to one side and watched them as they fought a mock-battle. It took Qui-Gon a few moments to get used to Maul's style, but once he did, he found himself joyfully flowing into the Force and letting it take over his body. 

Maul fought with the same intensity with which he lived, and threw himself into the bout. Qui-Gon was hard pressed to keep up, but he did manage, though it was at a cost: he had the passing thought he was out of shape and would need to work out more. They had just fought to a standstill when Qui-Gon heard a soft ping on Maul's belt. Both were breathing hard, something that gratified Qui-Gon, and they bowed again after pushing away from each other and keying off their 'sabers. Obion applauded.

"That was fabulous." Obion gave them each a towel and embraced Qui-Gon. "I can't wait to learn how to fight like that."

"Now that you have your 'saber, we can begin some of the drills." Qui-Gon mopped his face again and smiled at Maul. "Well fought. I need to work out more."

"Same here," Maul replied, putting his 'saber back in its holster on his belt. Qui-Gon could see how he had missed it -- the 'saber's hilt, being matte black, blended in perfectly with Maul's clothing. "I have to meet with Skora, and Obion, you and Qui-Gon are expected at the special session before dinner. There also may be a meeting with the Lord Mayor after dinner."

"Yes, I know. Our schedules are frantic, and that blasted Mouth person will be here tomorrow."

"Have you received official transmission of this?" Qui-Gon asked, tossing his towel into a corner. 

"Yes, about an hour ago, there was a very polite message received." Maul frowned thunderously. "I have counseled Adi not to drop the particle shield, and you and I, Qui-Gon, will _not_ be visible with her when she meets with the man."

"You don't want them to recognize you." Qui-Gon nodded. "But why put me in hiding too?"

"Because of the way the Dhro is treating Jedi," Obion replied for Maul. "We don't understand it yet, and we've got to before we can show our hand. If the Dhro finds out we have a treaty with the Jedi, we don't know what will happen."

Qui-Gon nodded again, looking between the two men. "It makes sense."

"We'll go over everything tonight, after the meetings have been concluded." Maul tossed his towel in the same corner. "I've got to go. I'll see you both later."

For the little time they had left, Qui-Gon took Obion through the beginning 'saber forms again. They had used the staves, but there was a significant difference between wood and actual 'sabers. They didn't have a lot of time, but did what they could.

Before going back to their rooms to shower, Obion pulled Qui-Gon in for a kiss. "It would please me greatly if you would sleep with me, Qui-Gon... not just tonight..." His eyes were hopeful and happy.

"I'd rather sleep with you than anywhere, Obion. But I'm new at this... should I give up the rooms I had?"

"Oh, no, you don't have to do that," Obion said with a smile. "Mother's told me it's always a good idea to have separate rooms, just in case. I've never figured out what the 'just in case' is, but she's usually right."

Qui-Gon smiled and gave in to temptation again, kissing Obion. "Should I move my things, though?"

"I would like that."

"I would too." It took an act of will to get them moving again, rather than just standing and kissing forever.

* * *

In between meetings, Qui-Gon managed to get his clothing and toiletries moved to Obion's rooms. Terrell and Galer helped, and Terrell dropped a bomb on Qui-Gon: he was volunteering for service in the armed forces. Galer seemed as surprised as Qui-Gon was.

"Since you and his Highness are moving in together, I thought Galer could take over for me, as it were, if that's all right?" He looked between them, and Galer broke the tableau by hugging Terrell. 

"Wow, Terrell, that's great. I wish I could volunteer."

"You're still too young, Galer, but I'm not, well, just barely. And Jay -- I mean, Sir Matrin -- he didn't want me to go, didn't want me to volunteer. He'd be livid if you went too... you know how he gets when stuff doesn't go exactly right." They were just done with moving Qui-Gon, and time was short for his next meeting. "But I just had to do something, you know?"

"I know." Qui-Gon put his hand on the young man's shoulder. "Be careful, Terrell. When do you need to report?"

"This evening. Maul said I'm to be deployed to Mount Sunrider, to help with the children." He took a deep breath and then squared his shoulders. "You're due in the conference room, Master Jinn. We'd better hurry."

The general staff meeting had turned into a war council, and the Jedi Council was attending as well, remotely. General Skora gave her report on the location of the Dhro's forces, and strategy was discussed should the force move closer to Corellia. The Jedi, Qui-Gon was surprised to learn, had decided to disperse on Selonia, leaving a skeleton crew manning the Temple itself. The Council would be leaving the next day.

"We thought it best to not present such a large target," Ka'Ran Da said. 

Maul was nodding. "Very good idea. We need to discuss how to keep in touch with each other without alerting the Dhro to your whereabouts."

The meeting, like the day, was long and made tedious by the minutiae of preparing the Corellian system for war. Unspoken was the fervent wish that war would not come; would, in fact, skip their system altogether, not disrupt or take their lives. The exacting meetings belied that wish.

Even dinner was a quiet, somber and quick affair. The Lord Mayor was in attendance and Qui-Gon found himself dragged into the post-dinner meeting, as 'acting' First Minister to the Empress. If the man had a problem with the Jedi, he gave no sign of it. Most of the meeting dealt with discussion of evacuation plans. Already, cities had been preparing for war, and many Corellians had already fled to other worlds -- Yavin, Hoth, Ord Mantell -- in the hopes that Corellia would indeed stop the Dhro and he would go no further.

It was exhausting. But Obion dwelled in the back of Qui-Gon's mind, always there, always shoring him up with love and desire. Qui-Gon bid a fond good luck to Terrell as the young man went to report in, and promised to carry a message to Aliamon from him. And finally, after all that, after the meetings and the activity that would hopefully see them through the crisis, finally it was time to retire, and finally leave his omnipresent bodyguard and his new page at the door to Obion's quarters, finally he could seek his bed and his lover.

How odd it felt, to have a lover, to have someone who loved and needed him as much as he loved and needed. He knew it was right between them, knew the Force wanted them together, wanted them to be a couple. But even though he knew that, there were times -- during the interminable meetings, the exhaustive planning sessions where every contingency _had_ to be anticipated -- there were moments when Qui-Gon doubted, when he sometimes despaired. He was so much older than Obion, was a Jedi, was not worthy of such a beautiful and open young man. He feared something would happen and their happiness would vanish like a puff of smoke.

Then, he would turn, and somehow catch Obion's gaze, and the only things that would vanish were his doubts and his fears.

It was quite late by the time Obion made it back to his rooms, and Qui-Gon had already gotten ready for bed and was reading in the sitting room. Maul and Obion's bodyguard spoke to him briefly before letting him come in, and when he turned to Qui-Gon, his face looked so lined and careworn it seemed years older than his age. Without speaking, Qui-Gon put his reader aside, rose, and took Obion into his arms, holding tightly and being held, trying to convey without words how much he understood, how much he cared.

Obion wrapped his arms around Qui-Gon, rested his head on Qui-Gon's chest and squeezed. They stood there in silence for a long moment, and when Obion finally looked up, his face merely looked weary, not so old. "Tomorrow is going to be very interesting, I think," he whispered.

"Yes." Qui-Gon sighed. "Come to bed. Tomorrow will get here soon enough."

Nodding, Obion allowed himself to be led to the bedroom. Qui-Gon removed his robe and, with a smile, knelt at Obion's feet and tugged off the soft boots he wore. "You don't have to do that," Obion protested mildly.

"No, but I want to. You've had a much worse day than I have... let me take care of you."

Obion closed his eyes and sagged, letting his chin hit his chest. Taking that as a yes, Qui-Gon began to tenderly disrobe him, removing and setting aside each article of clothing until Obion was clad only in his undershorts, as Qui-Gon was. 

Pulling down the sheets, he helped Obion under them then stretched out next to him. Without a sound, Obion rolled into Qui-Gon's arms and held on tightly. They were both half-hard, the mere proximity to each other causing some arousal, but Qui-Gon could tell Obion was too tired to do much more than cuddle.

"I wanted..." Obion breathed against Qui-Gon's breastbone.

"I know." He ran his fingers through Obion's lovely, fine hair. "There's no hurry. Tonight, we need to sleep, I think, and shore up our reserves."

"You're probably right." They both sighed, and Qui-Gon felt his lover falling deeper into sleep's embrace. "Tomorrow..." Obion mumbled as he drifted off.

Qui-Gon waved the lights off and settled down, still holding Obion tightly. "Tomorrow," he whispered.

* * *

In the deepest, darkest hour of the night, Qui-Gon once again woke with a jerk of movement, another nightmare claiming his rest. This time, Obion was not in his arms, and was, instead, curled into a ball at the edge of the bed. The twitches and whimpers Qui-Gon heard told him all he needed to know. With gentle touches and soothing thoughts, he pulled Obion back into his embrace, rubbing tense arms and legs gently, murmuring nonsensical words of comfort.

Finally, Obion sighed and slipped into a deeper, safer sleep. Shortly thereafter, Qui-Gon did as well.

* * *

The man who called himself The Mouth of the Dhro was tall, at least as tall as Qui-Gon, who was used to being the tallest human in a gathering. He had thick, white hair and a salt-and-pepper beard that covered his upper lip and chin but nothing else. His voice was absolutely beautiful, cultured, urbane and serene, but that was not what bothered Qui-Gon the most. What bothered him most was the man bore a lightsaber and was intensely Force-adept.

Standing with Maul in a room just off the major throne room, a room that was shielded as tightly as he and Maul could make it, Qui-Gon watched the action through the panel secreted in the wall. He would have thought the Seneschal would have been present as the Empress' herald, but instead she was using the same young man who had acted as translator to the Jedi during their initial encounter with her. He stood, straight and tall in the livery of the Sith Empire, bearing its standard, at the foot of the dais where the Empress sat on the throne, waiting for the delegation to approach.

The Empress was dressed in the colors of Clan Kenobi, with the white and gold of Clan Sunrider on a sash across her torso. Across her lap lay the  scepter of the royal house of Wan, a short, heavy thing of white marble with gold leaf embellishments. Obion, as the Heir to the Empire, stood at her left hand, also wearing the sash and the colors combined. He was an imposing presence, standing with his legs planted and his arms crossed before his chest. They wore identical expressions of nothing and could have been chiseled from stone.

The room was devoid of furniture save for the throne at one end. There were guardsmen present, of course, two at each end, and though they looked ceremonial, Qui-Gon was willing to bet they would be able to spring into action at the blink of an eye. There was also a camouflaged door to the room from the shielded room; Qui-Gon could feel the tension in Maul, and wondered what it would take for the man to use the door, even if it meant showing himself to his enemies.

With a start, Qui-Gon realized Obion had his new 'saber on his belt, next to an oddly nondescript dagger in a sheath of dark blue leather. 

The delegation from the Dhro -- the Mouth of the Dhro and two aides of some kind, who both wore 'sabers -- finally made it across the long room and to the dais. As they approached, the Empress' herald struck the marble floor with the butt of the standard three times. 

"Who comes seeking an audience with her Exalted Majesty, Mother of the Sith Empire, the head of the royal House of Wan, Empress Adi-Wan of Clan Kenobi; and her son and Heir, bearer of the Sacred Blade, Lord of the Mountain, Obion of Clan Kenobi? Speak your business and your purpose before approaching further!"

The mysterious man smiled and bowed, though not nearly enough to show the proper reverence. The Empress' face did not change. 

"I bring greetings to the Empire of the Sith from my master, the Dhro. Consider me to be the voice of the Dhro, in this and in all other ways; I speak for him."

Silence fell in the room as no one spoke. The Empress continued to regard the man standing before her through hooded eyes, and did not speak or even move. Neither did Obion.

Finally, the man spoke again, though Qui-Gon sensed he was more amused than discomfited by the silence. "The Dhro seeks this audience in order to open a dialog between us. The autonomy of the Sith Empire is in question, as the Dhro wishes to add it to the galactic hegemony he is creating."

After another long silence, where Qui-Gon could almost feel the ice forming, the Empress spoke. "The autonomy of the Sith Empire is never in question. The Sith Empire bows to no one. The Dhro may do as he wishes with others; the Empire stands alone."

"Ah, but that may be a problem, Empress. My master has..."

Qui-Gon's attention was suddenly ripped from the drama unfolding before him when a tendril of something very faint reached him. A tendril activating a bond which should not have been there.

Maul put his hand on Qui-Gon's shoulder and frowned a question. "Something..." Qui-Gon breathed. "I need to go check."

"Be careful."

Nodding, Qui-Gon took a moment to ensure his shields were firm before slipping out of the room and hurrying down the hall. The Mouth of the Dhro had appeared in a single small ship holding minimal crew, and only he and the two aides had been allowed outside the landing area. The palace's port, while attached to the palace, was nevertheless almost half a mile from its heart. It took Qui-Gon long, breathless minutes to make his way to the area, and with every step, his certainty grew -- Xanatos was on the planet.

He knew he had to hurry, he knew the Mouth of the Dhro would not be long in his 'negotiations' with the Empress, but he had to confirm what his heart told him. Finally, he stood outside the port where the Dhro's ship had landed, just inside the perimeter of guards Maul had created. Holding his breath, he released just a bit of his shields, _plucking_ the slim tendril he felt, and waited. 

It wasn't a long wait. On the ship's ramp appeared a familiar dark-haired figure, holding an unlit 'saber, looking about in confusion. Spying Qui-Gon, his eyes grew wide and his jaw dropped. After a quick look around -- no one was watching, the guards knew Qui-Gon and knew he had Maul's clearance -- Xanatos nearly ran to him.

"Master? What the hells?"

"Xani." Qui-Gon reached out and embraced the young man who was as loved as a son to him. "My Xan. I knew it was you."

"What are you doing here?" Xanatos returned the embrace briefly, then he pulled away, once again looking around before shaking Qui-Gon gently. "This is Corellia, dammit, you're supposed to be safe on Selonia. What are you doing here?"

"I live here, we have a treaty, we've joined with the Sith against the Dhro, but what are--"

"You have a _WHAT_?" Xanatos almost choked himself trying to hold that bellow in. "You _can't_ ," he snarled, his hold on Qui-Gon's biceps painfully tight. "The Jedi and the Sith are enemies, dammit, what kind of idiotic thing is this? You're not supposed to be on the same damn side, you're not supposed to be _here_!"

"Why? Xan, what's wrong with that? We're all _on_ the same side, what do you mean we're not? You've been sending updates to the Temple, we've seen them..."

"It's not that simple," Xanatos ground out. "There are things you don't know, Master. This changes _everything_. Damn, damn, damn." Abruptly, Xanatos let go of his arm to run his hands through his hair. "Are there any other Jedi here?"

"Yes, but--"

"No buts. You have to leave, you have to get back to the Temple, now! Today! You don't understand, the Dhro--" Their conversation, such as it was, was cut short by the sound of people approaching: the Mouth of the Dhro must not have been able to keep the Empress happy for very long. "Shit, that's Dooku, I can't... Get out of here, Master, Qui-Gon, please! Dammit, I need to know you're safe!" Xanatos drew him into a swift, hard embrace, just as quickly breaking it.

"I am safe, Xani..."

But there was no more time. Xanatos shoved him into an alcove and pushed him down, hidden, then ran to the ship to greet the Mouth of the Dhro, who did not look around at all before boarding. Xanatos gave Qui-Gon one last look and tugged gently on their bond before closing it along with the airlock of the ship.

Stunned, Qui-Gon watched as the ship lifted and disappeared into the sky before turning and walking thoughtfully back to the palace.

* * *

"I don't understand." The Empress' voice was filled with her confusion.

"I don't either!" Qui-Gon paced the flagstones of the garden before the bench on which sat the Empress and Obion. In his mind, he again ran through the aborted meeting with Xanatos, trying to figure out what had just happened. "If you had only kept him talking a few moments longer..." he muttered.

"I'm sorry," the Empress said, her voice wry and tired. "Had I known, I would have done my best. Perhaps we could have traded recepies or something."

"I know, I know. I'm sorry, I'm just..." 

Maul, who stood behind the bench, sighed. "Hints and allegations, half-spoken warnings, veiled threats. I hate this."

"You're not alone there." Qui-Gon stopped pacing and stretched one arm behind his head to rub his neck.

"Come here." Obion stood and took Qui-Gon's hand, tugged him to sit on the bench. Switching places with Maul, Obion began rubbing Qui-Gon's neck and shoulders.

"He said nothing else?" Despite the seriousness of the question, the Empress smiled at her son and his lover.

"No. Nothing I could consider of any consequence. Just that I had to get off Corellia and back to the Temple. That this 'changed things.' What things?  Why? I... uh." Obion had hit a particularly tense spot and was working hard on it.  "You're going to have to stop that if you expect me to make further sense," he mumbled, his chin almost in his chest.

"You're too tense. You need to meditate." Gentling his massage, Obion turned it into a caress. 

"And when do I have time for that?" All four chuckled briefly. "I'll try. I wish I'd had more time with him. At least he looked fine."

"Do you think you blew his cover?" Maul asked.

"I pray I did not." They sat there in silence for a bit longer, and Obion's hands finally stilled but did not leave Qui-Gon's neck, even after he straightened. "I should let Plo know what happened."

"I'll go," Maul said. "I want to ask him some questions on Force control, what can and can't be hidden." He glanced at the Empress. "I think none of us were surprised at this mouth person being so Force-sensitive."

"You know, I think I might know his name," Qui-Gon said with a frown. "Xani said 'Dooku', as if it were a name. Ask Plo if he recognizes it. Perhaps we should send a message to the Temple, too, to see if anyone there recognizes it."

"All right." Maul again glanced at the Empress. "Everything is in readiness. We merely have to wait, since I'm not allowed to make the first move."

"No, you're not," the Empress said firmly. "I will not put my people in danger by provoking a fight. If it is coming, let it come -- but I will not invite it."

"She's right, Maul," Obion said softly.

"I know she's right. I don't have to like it, though."

Qui-Gon snorted. "We're all stuck doing things we don't want to do. I need to get back inside, check with Bellen for my schedule. I'm sure I have other things I don't want to do lined up for me."

"You have a staff meeting in an hour," Obion told him as Qui-Gon rose. "To discuss that person's 'offers'." Obion shook his head. "I want to find time today to spar, if possible. We both need it, I think."

"I'd offer to join you, but I don't think I'll have time." Maul gave his hand to the Empress as she rose.

"There is no more time left," she said.

* * *

Time did seem to be at a premium. Qui-Gon spent the day in meetings, on the teleunit, offering advice to various court functionaries and working on the treaty. By the end of the day, he was exhausted but in desperate need of physical exercise. He hadn't found the time to meditate, and felt it keenly.

Obion caught up with him on the way back to his rooms after yet another round with the Empress' ministers on the Jedi treaty. "I've managed to get out of dinner tonight, Mother's all but canceled it. I can have Jay send us some dinner in my rooms; let's go work on some forms. If I don't, I'm afraid I'm going to kill someone."

"Only if I get to pick who it is," Qui-Gon replied with a weary sigh. Lord Blelling had been particularly particular on the treaty negotiations, and Qui-Gon was nearly at his wits' end.

"You can pick who I kill if I get to pick who you kill. Come on. Let's change and go."

Exercise did help. Obion ran through all the forms he'd learned to date, saving the ones with 'saber for last. He was doing well enough that Qui-Gon started walking him through the katas which were a step below sparring. 

While picking them up handily, Obion kept overcompensating: the weight of a lightsaber was negligible compared with the weight of the kind of sword Obion had learned to fight with. Qui-Gon stopped them frequently to adjust Obion's footing and stance, to make sure he was lifting correctly, and not over-lifting or over-reaching.

After two hours, they were hot and sweaty and wanted a break. "Do you feel sufficiently worn out yet?" Obion said, breathing heavily.

Qui-Gon simply nodded as he sagged against the wall, he didn't think he'd catch his wind for at least a week.

"Shower, then food. I told Jay to bring--"

The door to their impromptu workout room burst open to admit a grim-faced Maul. "The Dhro has set up a blockade around Selonia."

* * *

"Can it be broken?"

"Without going to outright war? No."

"Dem..."

"Adi, you want me to break this blockade, fine. I'll do my best. But I'm telling you right now, it'll be at a cost you won't want to pay. Because if we break through this droid armada -- and that's a big if -- then the clones will come looking to mop up and we won't have any reserves left."

The Empress made a frustrated and furious sound. "We have promised the Jedi we would come to their aid should they need it."

"So? Do they need it? The blockade is in orbit, we've had no reports of landings. None at all. It's almost as if they want to just keep the Jedi where they are." General Skora snorted and threw herself back in her chair. "I don't understand it. Maybe you should call them up and ask."

"We aren't going to break the blockade." Maul's voice was soft but firm. The Empress glared at him but he just let it bounce off. "So far, there has been no need to come to the Jedi's aid. Demmer is right, there's been no landings, no offense other than the blockade. Selonia is self-sufficient. We have no cause to fight at the moment. So, we wait."

"How long? How long do we wait, Maul?" The Empress smacked her hand on the table, hard. Her frustration level was swamping the room. "Do we wait until they start landing and killing Jedi?"

"Adi, we don't know what their intention is -- this is new behavior for them, and there's no telling what it means. Until we understand it, we must assume the Jedi are all right." He took her hand, which was balled into a fist, and encouraged it to relax. "I don't like it either."

"This goes against every instinct I have," the Empress muttered. Looking up, she pinned Qui-Gon with a glare. "You haven't said anything, revered Jedi. What do you counsel?"

He had been afraid she would ask that, because he didn't know how to reply. Obion caught his gaze and nodded, reassuringly. "Most of me wants to break the blockade and get my people off Selonia," he said slowly, thinking it through, trying to be objective rather than subjective. "But logically, Maul and General Skora are correct. Focusing on one thing might mean we lose all." He sighed and looked down. "We should wait."

Swallowing heavily, shaking her head, the Empress finally relented. Her hand, still held captive in Maul's, opened finally. "I hate this. I hate this. Very well. We wait. However..." Now it was General Skora's turn to be pinned, "at the first sign of landing -- the first sign, Dem! -- we act. Is that clear?"

Demmer Skora nodded. "I understand, Adi. And I don't like it either, it was my promise to them Jedi as well, not just yours."

"I know." It was the most passion Qui-Gon had ever seen from the Empress, far more than he had come to expect. He felt for her; she was in an untenable situation -- they all were -- and every step made was probably wrong. There was no escape; the damn Dhro had them in a box that was closing tightly. "Write up the orders over my seal. Maul, you're privy to this as well. I want updates every five hours; sooner, if things begin to happen. And I want long-range sensors on Selonia at all times."

Nodding briskly, General Skora stood and left the room. The Empress brought her free hand to her forehead and rubbed hard. "I'm getting another one of those damned headaches."

"I'll have Dr. Pfelling bring you another of his potions," Maul said, bringing the Empress' hand to his mouth for a gentle kiss. "It will be all right, da'mrow."

"Maul, you give me hope where there is none." She turned to look at Qui-Gon and Obion. "You two stink like a locker room. I think showers and food are due all around." Maul helped her to her feet and they left, followed by Obion and Qui-Gon. 

Obion stayed silent, let Qui-Gon be wrapped in his thoughts all the way back to their rooms, where Matrin had indeed left food in warmers for them. With a smile, Obion pushed Qui-Gon into the bathroom, giving him the first go at the shower, which Qui-Gon gratefully took.

He was torn, at such a loss for the right thing to do that it actually frightened him. Why would the Dhro be doing this, this blockade of Selonia? It broke all patterns he had, until now, kept to. And what was worse, Qui-Gon was almost positive it had something to do with his meeting Xanatos. Deep inside himself, he asked the question Maul was too circumspect, to caring to ask: could Xani have been subverted to the Dhro?

As the water beat down on him, soothing some of his pain away, he leaned his hands on the wall and dropped his head. Could Xanatos have turned? If he had, could Qui-Gon kill him if necessary? His mind wanted to shy away from that thought, but he wouldn't let it. If Xani had indeed turned, turned away from the Light and was under the control of the Dhro, it would be a mercy to release his spirit to the Force. Xani, his Xani, the bright, beautiful boy he had raised, would not want to walk in Darkness.

But if he hadn't changed, if he was still on the side of the Light, then what did all this mean? Why would Xanatos have been so upset to find Qui-Gon on Corellia, why would he have been so adamant about Qui-Gon leaving, returning to Selonia? If Qui-Gon had immediately left, he would have been behind the blockade. Is that what Xani wanted? If so, why? And why had the Dhro broken with routine for the Corellian system? Why set up a blockade around Selonia and not around Corellia?

Turning away from the thoughts whirling in his head, Qui-Gon washed himself automatically, just moving on autopilot and giving his mind a rest from racing around in circles.

Before he had quite finished, Obion appeared in the bathroom. He stripped out of his underclothes and opened the shower stall door to join Qui-Gon. "I was afraid you'd gone down the drain," he said, hugging Qui-Gon tightly.

"Sorry, sorry," Qui-Gon replied, burying his face in Obion's neck and returning the hug. "Thinking too hard."

"Difficult to do on an empty stomach. Go get something to eat, I'll be right out to join you."

Nodding, Qui-Gon let Obion take his place. He wrapped himself in towels and wandered into the sitting room, where Obion had put out plates and utensils. Still bemused from his circular reasoning, Qui-Gon sat, served himself something hot which smelled delicious and proceeded to swallow it, without once tasting it. Whatever it was filled a hole he didn't know was there, though, and brought him more awake.

Obion joined him as he had promised, and Qui-Gon stood to take care of his hair and remove the towels, swapping them for his robe. He came back in time to see Obion, also wearing a comfortable-looking robe, stack the rest of the dishes on the rolling tray and put it by the door. "Jay will have someone pick it up tonight." He smiled and the temperature of the room rose several degrees. "I think we have an appointment, Master Jinn."

Pleased to have something to divert him, something as wonderful as Obion, no less, Qui-Gon smiled as well. "Do we, Highness? I wasn't aware of it."

"Yes, we do, and yes, you're aware of it. Tonight you have promised to take me, and--"

The teleunit pinged. Obion, who had reached Qui-Gon, grabbed some of Qui-Gon's robe and leaned his head down, groaning. "Ancestors in hell. I'm going to have that thing tossed off the east tower." Not letting go of Qui-Gon's robe, therefore towing Qui-Gon behind him, Obion stalked to the teleunit and slapped the key. "Yes?"

Maul's face appeared. "Sorry, Obion. It's not serious, and I'm not going to keep you, but I wanted to let Qui-Gon know, we've had two Jedi ships approach us, looking for sanctuary. I've directed them to Mount Sunrider, and have asked Captain Phipps, who I have in charge there, to let me know who's aboard."

"Sanctuary?" Qui-Gon blinked and looked down at Obion's frown. "They couldn't get through the blockade."

"Or didn't try." Maul nodded. "The Council must have commed all your at-large field ops before going into hiding, telling them to come here as a backup. I just wanted to let you know, as you might want to go out to the mountain soon to brief them. Or debrief them." He smirked. "Since you and Plo are the acting Council here..."

"Don't tempt me, Maul, the Council is upset with me enough as it is." Qui-Gon chuckled and Obion laughed. "Thank you for the heads up, though."

Maul's smirk turned into a smile and he reached for the cutoff. "Wait," Obion said suddenly. "How's Mam?"

"She's all right. Dr. Pfelling gave me another one of his pills to give her, and they always put her right out. I'll stay with her again tonight. Don't worry, Obion."

"Thank you, Maul." Obion's face lightened and he cut the transmission. "Good. I don't like these headaches she's been getting."

More than willing to divert Obion from his worry, Qui-Gon reached out and took his hand. "Where were we, Highness?"

Obion smiled widely and once again grabbed the front of Qui-Gon's robe. "Right about here, I think," he said before pulling Qui-Gon down for a kiss.

Hot. That's what they were together, that's what Qui-Gon felt every single time they crawled into the same bed with the same intent. Hot. Obion's skin was hot and flushed, and his kisses were flame. His eyes even seemed to catch fire when Qui-Gon wasn't looking, so that they burned Qui-Gon's skin wherever they gazed. It was a burn he found he loved.

They stretched out together on the big bed in what was rapidly becoming _their_ bedroom, after dropping robes on the chair, and just kissed, for a long time. Qui-Gon pulled Obion on top of him and hummed appreciatively at the weight draped over him. Obion kissed him like it was the last thing he would ever do, kissing with passion and with gentleness and with love, always love. Qui-Gon didn't know how he could stand much more of it.

With a tipping movement, Obion rolled them back over so Qui-Gon was on top. Obion moaned as his cock was trapped between his belly and Qui-Gon's flank, a hot brand searing Qui-Gon's flesh. Obion tasted so good... felt so good and Qui-Gon dived into his mouth, sucking and licking and feeling everything he possibly could. It felt so good.

Since he was now on top, Qui-Gon decided to take control and get a little of his own back: while youth and inexperience had definite advantages, age and cunning would always win. Gentling his kiss, taking his tongue from Obion's mouth, Qui-Gon began a series of tiny pecks along his jaw, his upper and lower lips, his cheek. Obion wrapped his arms around Qui-Gon and squeezed, but Qui-Gon didn't let it deter him. "I mean to taste every inch of you tonight," he whispered into Obion's ear, before licking all around the lobe and biting gently, and was gratified at the reaction he got.

He said every inch and that's what he meant. Starting at Obion's temple, Qui-Gon began tiny, licking tastes of every bit of flesh he could find. It was damp at Obion's temple and on his neck, under his hair. His collarbones were treated to long tongue swipes, as were the insides of his elbows and his palms. Qui-Gon carefully, gently took each of Obion's long fingers into his mouth and sucked on them, just to see Obion's face grow flushed and his breath shorten. Then he placed those hands down at Obion's sides and murmured, "Keep them there."

With Obion's hands out of the way, Qui-Gon began working his way down Obion's chest, stopping almost immediately at a tiny, hairless nipple which was already sporting a peak. He decorated it with little cat licks and tiny bites, each one wringing a cry from Obion, then moved to the other, giving it the same treatment.

Moving down further, he found the ticklish spots on Obion's stomach and had to put his own hands over Obion's to make sure they stayed where he wanted them. He did not bypass the furiously erect penis, but only gave it one small kiss of promise before moving down, licking at Obion's testicles and thighs and kissing the tight skin of his knees. Reaching the end of his prize, he very deliberately kissed and lightly sucked on each toe before looking up. "Turn over," he said, and his voice sounded husky to his ears.

There was something he had always wanted to try, something he thought would feel so good but he had never before had a real lover, someone he could trust to do it to him or let him do it. It would also show him if Obion had any lingering doubts or reservations about being taken, so soon after his disastrous liaison with Palpatine. Kissing his way up the backs of Obion's legs, he stopped briefly at the backs of his knees then moved up further, gently spreading Obion's cheeks. There, nestled in the middle of Obion's body was a small rosy pucker that looked...

The first lick nearly brought Obion completely off the bed. The second had him moaning and trying to spread his legs further: Qui-Gon helped him get to his knees then dove in for more. It was everything he thought it might be, and amazingly, he found himself nearly coming just on the taste and the reaction he was provoking in Obion.

He alternated long swipes of his tongue with little, sucking kisses that had Obion gasping and crying out in pleasure. When he pointed his tongue and tried for a deeper penetration, Obion began rocking back and begging, incoherently, for release. "Go ahead," Qui-Gon said, briefly removing his tongue. "You can come when you want, my love, whenever you want." Then he went back to his tasting and waited for the explosion.

With a shrill keen, Obion came, spraying all over the bedspread and thrusting his bottom back on Qui-Gon, still begging for more. Slowly, Qui-Gon stopped, gentling a trembling Obion carefully, urging him to roll over. Utterly sated, dazed and limp, Obion stretched out on his back. His legs were splayed, his face was red and his eyes were half-closed... he was utterly gorgeous. 

The bottle of oil was on the bedside table and Qui-Gon called it to him. While Obion was still limp from his tongue-fucking, Qui-Gon quickly slicked up two fingers and gently penetrated Obion, rubbing soothing circles on his stomach, trying to keep him loose and aroused. His penis, still half-hard, stirred sluggishly at the careful preparation; Qui-Gon was taking no chances, making certain that Obion felt nothing but pleasure in their coupling, that he wouldn't hurt Obion as Palpatine had done. "All right?" Qui-Gon asked, removing his fingers and adding more oil.

"Gods... yes..." Obion was not exactly articulate yet, though he managed slurred speech, and Qui-Gon meant to keep him that way. The passage he was readying was loose and becoming slick with the oil he was spreading, but just in case, he hooked his fingers to try and locate Obion's prostate. A raw shout told him he'd found it, and he ruthlessly massaged it, watching Obion's erection return full-strength as he did so.

By the time Obion was again begging, Qui-Gon was up to three fingers and all seemed ready. He removed his fingers and urged Obion to his side, spooning up behind him in memory of his own first time: he knew the position would make it easier on Obion. When he did enter Obion finally, it was so good, so hot and tight, he found himself having to solve complicated hyperspace formulas to keep from instantly coming. Obion's erection flagged briefly, but Qui-Gon managed to stay still for a long moment, waiting until his sheath inside Obion's body adjusted before beginning a long, slow withdraw and an even slower return.

"Sweet ancestors," Obion gasped. "So good... so fucking, fucking good... Feel you..."

"You are so tight and hot," Qui-Gon whispered into Obion's ear. "I wish I could stay like this forever, joined with you, inside you..."

"Want it too..." Obion was managing to move back a little with each long thrust, meeting them eagerly. "Touch me, Qui, lover, touch me, please..."

Qui-Gon let Obion guide his hand down, wrapped his hand around his lover's rigid and quivering erection. A few pumps and Obion was coming again, clenching around Qui-Gon, drawing Qui-Gon's own climax out of him ruthlessly. 

Burying his face in Obion's hair, Qui-Gon tried to keep from thrusting harder but he couldn't, Obion's body was so welcoming, so needy that he had to thrust, had to push harder and harder until he was seeing the stars that were hidden behind the particle shield, felt he was one of them with the heat and the wanting...

A long time later, Qui-Gon finally slipped out of Obion's body and they both sighed. "That's how it's supposed to be," Qui-Gon murmured into Obion's ear, kissing it gently. Obion merely whimpered in response, and Qui-Gon couldn't prevent his smile. "I didn't hurt you, did I?"

"Sweet ancestors, no." Obion's voice was still slurred from their activities. "You couldn't."

"I never would want to, but it's always possible," Qui-Gon corrected him gently. "I only want you to feel pleasure, Obion. Always."

In response, Obion simply pushed himself further back into Qui-Gon's arms. They lay like that for a long time, resting, simply being with each other. Then Obion moved his leg and grimaced. "There's a wet spot of rather epic proportions here," he murmured with a chuckle. 

"Let me get something to clean us up," Qui-Gon said. He gave one last kiss to the ear beneath his mouth then rolled up and went to the 'fresher for a towel. It was the work of a few moments to clean them and the bedspread up, then he dropped the towel by the bed and climbed under the covers with Obion, waving the lights off.

"Thank you," Obion said, pushing back until he was spooned with Qui-Gon again.

"Mmm... my pleasure," Qui-Gon said. 

Obion snorted. "Mine too."

"I hope so."

"Oh, yes." Reaching back with one arm, Obion found Qui-Gon's and brought it over his stomach, holding it in place. "Very much. Thank you."

"For what?"

"For... for loving me."

"You are eminently loveable," Qui-Gon retorted, tucking his free arm under his head. "I'm not sure what I did to earn your love, which god I pleased so much to make it so. If I did, I'd make sure to offer a sacrifice to him or her."

"Ridiculous man." 

They were quiet for a bit, then Qui-Gon recalled what the Empress had said the evening of the masquerade, and his resolve to ask Obion about it. "What did your mother say to you the other night? Before we danced at the masquerade. It almost sounded like a benediction."

Obion shifted restlessly. "It..." He made a slight, frustrated noise. "It's something from the writings of Qel-Droma; the letters to his and Nomi's children," he finally said. "I'm... not sure why she said it."

"It was beautiful."

"So are you."

It was Qui-Gon's turn to make an incredulous noise.

They lay quietly entwined for a long moment, and Qui-Gon was almost asleep when Obion spoke again. His voice sounded dreamy, more asleep than awake. "Stay with me. I want you to stay with me. Forever. Even in the Force, like Nomi and Ulic."

Qui-Gon smiled. Off to one side, his rational mind observed his reactions and made acidic comments upon them, but he was too happy, too sated and well-loved to care. "Of course I will. You'd have to banish me and even then, I wouldn't go."

"Good. Won't banish you, ridiculous man. Want you to stay. Stay forever."

Qui-Gon hummed his approval and slipped over into sleep so gently he never knew when he crossed the line into dreams.

* * *

In the deepest part of the night, when all was quiet and very little stirred, both Obion and Qui-Gon were yanked from peaceful sleep by a shrill scream they heard only in their heads.

**_POPPA!_ **

* * *

  
Barely aware he was moving, Qui-Gon was out of bed and into a pair of shorts and his robe before he was completely awake. Obion seemed to be doing the same, and they both grabbed their 'sabers before rushing from the suite.

They startled the guardsmen who were on duty, though Obion simply bellowed for both of them to follow. They made a straight line for the big library and the stacks, for they both knew whose voice it was they had heard. Maul beat them to the room; they saw him as they entered, running for the back. The two guardsmen who were supposed to be on duty were lying in two heaps on the floor, obviously dead. When they entered the stacks, the first thing they saw was Plo Koon, also on the floor, with a gaping, blackened hole where one of his two hearts would be. His lightsaber was still in one hand, unlit.

The room was a mess; it was obvious a battle had occurred. Paper, parchment and pictures were strewn everywhere, and some looked burned, as though whoever had done this had tried to eliminate more evidence by simply burning it. Cliadle's mental scream and their swift reaction to it might well have been what prevented the entire room from going up in flames. 

In a corner of the room, Maul knelt, Cliadle in his arms and held like a baby. He was almost weeping as he rocked his daughter, and Qui-Gon feared the worst. He swallowed hard and walked to his friend, crouching next to him and looking closely at Cliadle. She was rigid, her eyes were open and staring but she was not dead, she still lived, and Qui-Gon breathed a bit easier.

"Cli? Cli? Oh, ancestors, she's not dead, tell me she's not dead!" 

Qui-Gon stood and grabbed Obion tightly. "She's not dead, Obi, she's not. Whoever got Plo didn't get her -- at least, not with a 'saber."

"She's not dead but she's not alive either," Maul said, in thick voice that trembled. "Da'schal, babe of mine, please talk to me, talk to your Poppa..."

Crouching again, Qui-Gon reached out and closed Cliadle's eyes, then left his hand on her head as he forced himself to calm and center. He looked for the bright flame of Cliadle's aura, and he did find it, but it was muted, darkened, as if...

"She's retreated into herself," he said, recognizing the symptoms. "It's like catatonia. Someone or something frightened her so much, or perhaps attacked her mind, and she retreated. We just need to call her out of herself." Easy to say, hard to do. 

"How?" Maul raised his anguished eyes to Qui-Gon, who put his hand on Maul's shoulder.

"Get her out of here. Take her up, somewhere safe--"

"Mother!" Obion's voice was frantic. "Maul, is Mother safe? Is she--"

"I left guards with her," Maul said, rising with Cliadle cradled tenderly in his arms.

"Guards like the ones out front? Whoever did this... We have to get back to Mother!"

"Yes... go... no, wait..." Maul seemed at a loss for what to do -- a first, and an indication of his extreme pain and confusion. He looked around the wrecked room and Qui-Gon perceived his intent. 

"Take her up to her mother, quickly. Obion and I will stay here, see if we can figure out what happened. Send more guards down here but get her out and keep her and the Empress safe!" 

The tone of Qui-Gon's orders broke through his indecision, and Maul nodded in relief. He hurried out, still bearing Cliadle, and Qui-Gon heard him ordering the guardsmen to stay where they were. "We need to look, Obi. We need to find out why they were attacked now, what they were close to finding..."

"Yes. Yes. Whoever did this, he must have known they were close... why else do this now?"

"Exactly. It looks like Cliadle saved the day, else this whole room might have burned." He took Obion's arm. "Come help me."

Plo Koon was a very methodical person. He kept meticulous records of his research, both by hand and by recorder. The recorder was smashed along with the datacrystal in it, but beneath the short stack of books to one side, Qui-Gon found his hand-written notes.

"Keep watch, with both your eyes and your Force-sense, Obi," Qui-Gon said, sitting at the table. "My Kel Dor is rusty; it's going to take me a bit to translate the information. But whoever did this is still out there, and Plo was not a warrior to take lightly. Even taken by surprise, he would have put up quite a fight." _Rest in the Force, my friend,_ he thought sadly before forcing himself to pay attention. Grief could come later, when there was more time.

It did take him several long moments, but finally he figured out what Plo had been working on last, a history they had found which was mostly intact, complete with pictures and holos. It looked to have been written by Nomi Sunrider's chief of security, a name Qui-Gon didn't recognize. Since the history was written in an older version of Corellian, even that took a while to get through.

Translating laboriously, aware the clock was ticking, he tried to skim the information, tried to get the most out of it as quickly as possible. Obion stood at his back, watching the door, and Qui-Gon could feel his tension coiled about the room.

Turning the page, Qui-Gon stopped short and forgot how to breathe. "Gods."

"What? What?" Not willing to turn away from the door, Obion backed up and darted glances at what Qui-Gon was looking at -- a flatpic, faded with age but still clear. The legend beneath it read 'Exar Kun, apprentice to Freedon Nadd.' 

The subject of the picture was apparently in motion as it was taken. Kun had a blood-red 'saber in his hand and was in the process of turning towards the pictographer. He was a tall, thin man, and his face had a scar which began at his left eyebrow and cut down to his upper lip -- it only made his scowl more frightening. His hair was red and cut short, and his eyes were green. 

He looked _exactly_ like Jaydon Matrin, the Seneschal to the Empress.

"Oh, shit," Obion breathed.

* * *


	10. Chapter 10

**CHAPTER TEN**

As they practically ran through the library -- their guardsmen in tow, Qui-Gon still clutching the book with the damning picture -- Obion kept repeating, under his breath and with an increasing hysteria, "Not possible... not possible... not possible..."

Just before they left the library, Qui-Gon stopped to let Dray and Sarin precede them and grabbed Obion in his arms, squeezing tightly. "Obion. Stop. He's been with you all your life, of course you don't think it's possible. That's natural. You can't look at him as your friend Jay any longer; look at him as someone who has been hiding behind a mask and trying to hurt your family." Obion swallowed hard and turned his panicked eyes up at Qui-Gon, who nodded slowly, willing calm to his lover. "He's not the person you thought you knew, Obion. Just concentrate on that."

The green look on Obion's face subsided as he took deep breaths and steadied himself on Qui-Gon's aura. Finally nodding, he pushed away from Qui-Gon and they continued up through the palace which never had never before seemed so huge.

They didn't expect to run into Matrin, but Qui-Gon kept his 'saber in his hand anyway, kept himself on the alert, kept watch for a shock of red hair over a traitorously benign face. Obion stayed close to him, carrying his own 'saber. Once they hit the main corridors, they did break into a run, grateful there was no one around to see them.

When they reached the Empress' quarters, their guardsmen joined the two already on duty and both Obion and Qui-Gon burst in, calling for Maul. "In here," they heard, and they both dashed into the bedroom. 

Maul was on the Empress' bed with her and Cliadle, who was still catatonic. "I've sent for Dr. Pfelling," Maul said, absently caressing Cliadle's hair. The Empress was sitting up, her back propped on pillows, and she held Cliadle tightly, crooning nonsense.

"We have something to show you," Qui-Gon said. Both Maul and the Empress looked up and their eyes were filled with anguish and anger. Wordlessly, Qui-Gon opened the book to the worn flatpic and held it out.

The Empress' face went dead white and she clutched at her daughter. Maul's eyes grew wide, then he narrowed them and his lips thinned into a tight line. Qui-Gon could feel the room roil with his anger, could see Cliadle -- even unconscious as she was -- spasm from it. "Stop." Maul looked up and glared at him. "Control, Maul. Being that furious at him only makes you descend to his level. We will have to be in control, here. Cliadle, at least, demands it."

Maul's jaw worked and his hands clenched into fists; he dropped his chin to his chest. Qui-Gon could feel him try to center, try to release, but it wasn't working and finally, Maul rose and stalked to the other side of the room. Without a word, he hit the wall so hard he punched a hole in it; Qui-Gon winced, thinking he'd heard bones crunch.

"Are you all right?" Obion asked, not moving. 

Maul nodded in reply, then leaned his forehead on the wall. He felt much calmer to Qui-Gon. "I'm sorry, Adi."

"For what, Maul?" The Empress' voice was angry, tear-filled and passionate. "For not forcing me to do something about him? For allowing me to denigrate your feelings about him? For loving me and our daughter? Or just for putting a hole in my wall?"

By the time the Empress finished, Maul was on the bed beside her and was wrapping one arm around the two on the bed. The hand on his other arm was already beginning to swell.

"What in heaven happened here?" Dr. Pfelling was at the door, blinking in shock. He wore a robe over some garish pajamas and bore a small case.

"Cliadle has been the victim of a psychic attack, we think," Qui-Gon said, taking control of the situation. "She needs a mild sedative, then I can try to bring her out. Maul needs a pain-killer and probably a bone-knitter for his hand."

"I'm fine," Maul said, but Pfelling was having none of it.

"Fine? Yes, I'm sure you are, with at least three broken bones that I can see from here." Fishing in his case, he pulled out two hyposprays, fitting bottles to each. "I see what happened to Maul -- what has happened to Cli? You said she was attacked... by whom?" He put one hypospray to Maul's neck and the other to Cliadle's.

"Jaydon Matrin," Obion snarled, and Pfelling's head came up and his jaw dropped. "He is a traitor to the Empire who has killed two guardsmen, revered Jedi Koon, and attacked my sister. His head is now forfeit."

Pfelling's eyes grew bigger with every word Obion uttered. Finally, his face flushed and his jaw set, he said, "Don't look to me to stop you!" He muttered some invectives under his breath before closing the case he carried with a decisive snap. "Maul, you need to come with me to the infirmary for that hand."

"I'm not going anywhere," Maul snarled, but Pfelling cut him off.

"If you want to continue to protect them, you most certainly are, and now." Pfelling grabbed Maul by his shoulder and pulled. As he left the room, a still-protesting Maul in tow, they could hear him muttering about finding his sword and disbelief that someone he trusted so much could so deeply betray that trust.

"I'm going to alert the guard and set up a perimeter. Not that there's much hope he'll still be easy to find." Obion, sparing one quick glance to his sister, turned and stomped to the Empress' teleunit. 

Qui-Gon sat down on the bed next to the mother and daughter. "She's relaxed? She feels less tense in her muscles?"

"Yes." The Empress nodded, then gently kissed Cliadle's forehead. "Cli, my angel? Can you hear me?"

"Let me try," Qui-Gon said, brushing Cliadle's thick hair out of the way. He put one hand on her head and closed his eyes, centering himself and looking for the bright golden aura that signified 'Cliadle' to him. It was hiding, understandably, and he knew he had to tempt it out, make it feel safer before it would come back.

Sinking into a deeper trance, feeling the Force buoy him, Qui-Gon walked in chilly darkness calling for Cliadle. Far, far ahead of him, he saw a faint light which seemed to disappear when he looked right at it. He walked more quickly, still calling, trying to tease her consciousness into responding. Deeper and deeper he wandered into her psyche, calling and begging her to return.

With a light that was blinding after all the darkness, someone -- Obion! -- joined him on the dreaming plane. Their voices, combined, were loud and insistent, and the tiny flame so far back, so very wounded, responded. It flickered and danced warily, but they were insistent, projecting their love and their worry for Cliadle, for that little flame, until it began to draw closer. Slowly it approached, to their words of love and encouragement, until finally it burst and flew directly at them. They caught it carefully and joyfully.

Qui-Gon opened his eyes to find himself in a four-way embrace consisting of himself, Obion, Cliadle, and the Empress, all wrapped around him and each other, all of them crying and rocking together.

* * *

It was near dawn. Cliadle was in a natural sleep next to her mother on her mother's bed. Obion was stretched out on the sofa in his mother's sitting room with his head in Qui-Gon's lap. They both had their 'sabers, and though Qui-Gon dozed at times, he set himself to wake instantly should something happen.

The door opened and Maul slipped in, his hand in a modified splint that looked like a glove. "Cliadle?" he asked, seeing Qui-Gon's open eyes. Qui-Gon saw his own Lieutenant Dray behind him, in the hall.

"She's fine. Go in and join them, you'll need to rest too."

"Only for a moment," Maul replied, but his feet were already carrying him into the bedroom.

Obion murmured and shifted, then with a start, his eyes opened. "Shh," Qui-Gon said, caressing his face. 

"Was that Maul?" Obion asked thickly.

"Mm." Qui-Gon nodded in reply, but left his hand where it was, on Obion's cheek. "I sent him in to join them for a little sleep before dawn."

"As if he would." Obion cleared his throat and nestled himself deeper into Qui-Gon's lap. "Thank you for rescuing her."

"You did a lot of it."

"Still." Qui-Gon smiled at Obion's words, running his fingers through Obion's tangled and sweaty hair. "Will she be all right?"

"She's a strong girl. She'll be fine." After a moment, Qui-Gon added, reluctantly, "It's Aliamon I'm most worried about now."

Obion frowned and blinked at him, then Qui-Gon watched his awareness dawn. "Oh, ancestors." He took a deep breath and released it slowly, obviously fighting back panic. "You're right... she's..."

"I've been meaning to check on her for days now, but everything kept getting in the way." He let his head thump back on the cushions, reluctant to meet Obion's eyes. "I was so wrapped up in your blatant contamination, I let her more subtle one pass. Once we determined that Palpatine was not the Dark Force user, I should have known, should have done... I thought... I thought she was just not as strong in the Force as you. Damn."

"It is _not_ your fault. You couldn't... couldn't have known." Obion closed his eyes again, then they snapped open. "The children at the mountain! He was involved in that too..."

"I know. But what can we do? We bring them back here and we're just one big, broad target." Qui-Gon sighed. "I don't know what to do in the face of this, Obion. This is far more than just treason, far more than simple treachery. This man has stabbed at the very heart of the Empire: through Palpatine, he was trying to control you, through Chun, he may have been trying to control Aliamon, and who knows, he may have even been behind your father's death."

"He was." Maul stood at the door of the bedroom. As he spoke, he closed it gently and moved into the sitting room to take a seat. "I always suspected him. But Adi wouldn't listen, he was too much her friend and confidant. I should have worked harder to expose him. I should have done something more..."

Qui-Gon sighed, releasing his frustration and guilt to the Force. "'Shoulds' are in the past. We need to worry about now. We need to think what to do now." Qui-Gon deliberately pitched his voice low, aiming the words at both of them. "Obion has already alerted the guard."

"How many of them are under his control?" Maul asked, slumping in his chair. "My own damn men, and they won't even realize they've been subverted." 

There was a large, beautifully carved wooden clock in the Empress' quarters with a heavy brass pendulum which swayed back and forth with each sonorous, echoing 'tick'. It was soothing; it was hypnotizing; it was reminding them with every single swing how much time was passing, had been lost. Plo was dead, the rest of the Jedi unreachable, unable to help from behind that thorny wall of unmanned ships. The Force was quiescent, irritatingly so, content to let them handle this little bump in the road instead of being the overbearing, persistent nuisance it had been for so long. Qui-Gon resigned himself to figuring out the problem on his own, hoping the Force would graciously intervene if he went too far off.

The clock went 'clunk' as another hour passed and Qui-Gon sighed. "It's nearly dawn. We should be figuring out what to do."

"I'm open to suggestions," Maul said. He sounded as exhausted as Qui-Gon felt. "I feel surrounded -- the Dhro on one side, that mutinous, traitorous gundark on the other. He knows the palace far better than any of us; he could be anywhere."

"Start with what you know." Obion's voice was soft and Maul's head came up. 

"What?"

"Start with what you know. We need to search his rooms, where he usually goes. Who's his second? We have to talk to everyone in the palace, make sure they all know." Obion pushed himself reluctantly off Qui-Gon's lap and sat up.

"Don't tell them he's a criminal," Qui-Gon said, with sudden inspiration. "Tell them he's been exposed to something, that he's sick, in the mind and body. We need to get him under control quickly, for his own health and everyone else's."

"Sick with me wanting to remove his head, but yes, that's good." Obion smiled crookedly. "You have good ideas."

"The staff should be just coming on duty," Maul said, nodding. "Yes, that is good. I'll head down to the kitchens. Obion, you and Qui-Gon go to housekeeping. I'll leave Sarin and Dray here for Adi and Cli -- I'm as sure about them as I am about anyone."

* * *

  
Within an hour, the entire palace was looking for Jaydon Matrin, convinced he had some kind of plague he must be saved from. Only a select few knew the truth, and even then, it was censored. None of them wanted anyone else to know they were dealing with a clone of Exar Kun -- panic would spread and would simply lead to more confusion.

Maul had three separate teams of men searching for Matrin, each set starting at a different point of the palace and working laboriously across it. It could easily take a week for a thorough search of the sprawling palace. He kept in touch with them by means of a radio link, and an earpiece took up permanent residence in his ear. He would frequently pause in a conversation with the Empress or others, and make a reply in his hand-held.

Obion asked Galer to bring breakfast to the Empress' quarters, since he wasn't sure who else they could trust. They didn't want to leave Cliadle alone, not for an instant, and when she woke -- screaming from a nightmare -- they knew that was the right thing to do. Maul stayed close to her and to the Empress, clearly torn in his duty: on one hand, he wanted to keep them with him, on the other, he knew that Matrin needed to be found as quickly as possible.

The only people he seemed to trust unconditionally, other than the Empress, were Obion and Qui-Gon, who were themselves targets. At one point, he confided in Qui-Gon that the he whole situation made him feel very schizophrenic; he wanted to protect those he loved and cared for, but he couldn't protect them unless he was away from them, hunting his enemy. Qui-Gon didn't know what to say to such a confession; he felt strongly the same way Maul did. The thought of something happening to his family -- his family, what a lovely, terrifying thought -- nearly paralyzed him, as well.

He finally decided the confusion was intentional on Matrin's part. The bastard knew what he was doing, and had his hooks firmly in place.

One of the few outside their circle whom Maul decided to trust was General Skora. She was Force-blind, something Qui-Gon had suspected, and they both hoped that meant she'd be at least partially immune to Matrin's mind tricks. When they brought her into the Empress' apartment and told her what happened, she grew very quiet and her face turned to stone.

Finally, she turned to Qui-Gon. "I don't know about this Force, never felt it, don't rightly know what it can do, what he can do. But I know who Kun was. More important, I know what he was. And if the Seneschal is a clone of Kun, then he's going to be able to do all the stuff the books say Kun did, isn't he?"

It was the longest single speech Qui-Gon had heard her make. "Yes, we have to assume so," he replied. "He has far too many people in the palace under his control to make us feel even remotely secure."

"Then it seems to me that we need help from your people, Master Jinn." She nodded and glanced at Maul. "Let me go see what I can do to break through that blockade, Maul. If this man is Kun reincarnated, then we're going to need all the help we can get."

"Don't try to bull your way through," Maul cautioned her. "See if you can create enough of a diversion that you can land and pick up a few members of the Council. Let me give you their coordinates..."

After that, they only had to deal with Aliamon, which was bad enough. When Qui-Gon reluctantly pointed out her behavior over the last few days, he could tell that no one wanted to face it, but everyone knew it was true: she was under Matrin's control, if not all the way, then close to it. When she was summoned to her mother's rooms, she appeared with a pout worthy of her youngest sister. "If this means you've changed your mind about me going to the mountain, you can forget it," she said as she walked in the door. "I'm not going."

Qui-Gon and Obion had been ready for her, ready to really _see_ her as she entered the room. The contamination was there, though it was far more subtle than Obion's had been. It wasn't blatant, wasn't comprised of the obvious dark streaks as Obion's had been, but instead was more a shade of gray, like dingy laundry. It confirmed what Qui-Gon had concluded... Palpatine had been the one to try and get control of Obion, not Matrin. Which meant that Palpatine was Matrin's apprentice. But what if he had another?

Regardless, he felt almost overwhelming guilt that he had allowed it to get this far with Aliamon. He was supposed to be on the lookout for just such occurrence, and he had failed to notice it when it was right under his nose. Obion must have picked up on his feelings, for he squeezed Qui-Gon's shoulder.

"Your sister was attacked last night," Maul told her. He was standing behind the sofa in the Empress' rooms, and his voice was as flat as his expression. "Revered Jedi Koon was killed in the attack."

"Attacked?" Aliamon looked confused and petulant. "How could someone be attacked in the palace? You've got those damned guards following us everywhere we go! That's ridiculous."

"It's true, Ali." Cliadle appeared at the door to her mother's bedroom, wrapped in an old, worn quilt. Her mother was nowhere in sight. "It was Jay. He killed Master Plo and tried to burn the stacks down." Cliadle looked awful, her face was evidently pale even under her dark coloring, and her eyes were red.

Normally, Aliamon would have been running to her sister, trying to comfort; Qui-Gon knew how close they were. But now, she merely stared at her sister belligerently, her hands on her hips. "Are you crazy? Jay killed that old, dried-up Jedi? And attacked you? What did you eat for dinner last night, Younger Sister? I think we should call Dr. P."

"Ali." At Obion's word, she turned her frown on him. "Do you remember when we were learning how to meditate with Master Jinn?"

"Of course I do. Waste of time."

"No, I want you to think back to one of those lessons. Cliadle asked about my aura, said it was different. Do you remember?" Qui-Gon was impressed; Obion was inserting a calming influence in his words, almost like a Force suggestion. It was normally something that required a lot of practice to pull off successfully. A quick glance to the sofa, where Cliadle was now sitting -- her father standing behind her and also watching carefully -- told Qui-Gon that both of them felt it as well.

"What about it, Obion? Can you get to the point?"

"You do remember it, yes? Remember how Master Jinn said there was something wrong with my aura." Aliamon was clearly not listening, though she waved for him to continue. It was hard to see from the angle and the distance, but Qui-Gon thought her eyes looked unfocused. "You saw it too, I know you did, remember?"

"I suppose, though it was really a waste of time, Obion."

"No, it wasn't, because he found that someone had been influencing me, contaminating my aura."

"Oh, yes, that mythical 'Dark Force user'. Really, Obion." She giggled, a high-pitched, almost hysterical sound. She blinked rapidly as she looked around, and Qui-Gon could feel her trying to fight the conditioning. 

"It's not a myth, Ali, it's the truth." Obion reached out to touch her arm but she yanked it away. "Jay is that Dark Force user, Ali, he's been--"

"Stop it." Aliamon backed away until her shoulders hit the wall, pressing her hands to her ears. She frantically looked between them, seeming as much like a trapped animal as a human. "Stop it stop it stop it! Listen to yourselves, you're all sounding crazy!"

"We're not," Obion said, pitching his voice very low and not coming further towards her. "Ali..."

"Aliamon." The Empress appeared from her bedroom, wearing a robe. She was still pale but looked very determined. "Eldest Daughter, you must listen to us, to me. You are under the influence of someone we both trusted, and that trust was misplaced."

"Mother, that's crazy. Jay loves us, he does; he wouldn't want to hurt us."

"Then why would he attack your sister? Why would he kill Master Koon?"

"No, no, you're wrong," Aliamon's respiration was up and Qui-Gon could almost see her heart hammer. "You're all wrong, all of you! Get away from me, you freak!" The last was directed at Maul, who approached her with his hand out. Without warning, Aliamon shoved Maul aside and dashed for the door, breaking through it and the guardsmen standing there. Sarin grabbed hold of her, her arm and around her waist, and she shrieked and clawed at him, completely out of control.

"Let her go," Obion said, and Sarin did, glancing at Obion and Maul as Aliamon stumbled briefly before dashing down the hall. When her bodyguard would have followed, Obion signaled him to stay put.

"Obi--"

"We can use her to find Matrin." Obion's voice was a dull monotone as he interrupted Cliadle, and Qui-Gon could tell how much it cost him to speak.

"Obion, how could you, she's our sister..."

"Cli, we need to find Matrin. Ali is under his control. We've both enough of a bond with her that we can track her down with our minds." His jaw worked and he wouldn't look directly at anyone. "I've read up on our ability too, Cli; I know we can do this. At least this way, she might lead us to him."

"She might also get killed!" Cliadle had tears running down her face, and as Qui-Gon watched, she roughly dashed them away with the back of her hand.

"We'll all be killed if we don't find him." Obion looked at Maul, who nodded slowly. The Empress closed her eyes and moaned softly, and Cliadle went to her.

* * *

It was ridiculously easy to track Aliamon. Cliadle had the closest ties to her; logically, she was the best one to seek her sister's Force presence. Qui-Gon had grave reservations about the entire situation, reservations he knew Maul shared, but what could they do? Obion was right, they were all dead if they didn't find and neutralize Matrin now. They had no way of knowing what else he had accomplished during the years and years he had been working in the Empire.

Once Cliadle managed to ground herself sufficiently, Qui-Gon was able to help her focus to locate Aliamon's aura within the palace. The guardsmen Sarin and Dray accompanied them, keeping a lookout for problems, and Maul would frequently pause the whole group to take a transmission via his earpiece as his other search parties checked in with Aliamon's whereabouts, after he had asked them to check for Aliamon as well.

The hardest part of it was that the Empress would not remain within the dubious safety of her quarters, but insisted on joining them. Maul had pulled her into her bedroom to argue the point before they had set out. Even with the door closed, everyone in the sitting room could hear the Empress tear strips from Maul, and could hear him giving back as good as he got. Obion winced several times, but Cliadle was strangely sanguine about it. 

She wrapped her arms around Obion's waist, unabashedly leaning on her step-brother. "It's all right," she murmured. Qui-Gon was never far from Obion, and she included him in her comments. "Mam once told me that sometimes, the more people fight, the more they love each other. It doesn't make much sense to me, but I know Poppa never seems to mind it when she rips into him like she's doing."

"The problem is, I can see both sides," Obion replied, equally softly. He hugged Cliadle tightly. "She shouldn't go, she should remain here and safe, but if it were me..."

The door was abruptly thrown open and a grim-faced Maul emerged, stalking across the floor to the door of the suite. The Empress, with an equally hard expression on her face, followed him. Maul threw open the door and motioned for them all to come along as he all but stomped down the hall. Qui-Gon was gratified to see the Empress stay well within the group, and hoped all would be well.

He still had misgivings, however, grave misgivings that he had to chalk up to the danger of the situation. To do otherwise would be to give into panic.

They followed Aliamon through the palace on a round-about course. She didn't appear to be going anyplace specifically, and Qui-Gon could feel her pain and confusion clearly. They followed, trying to stay far enough behind so that she wouldn't know they were there and would lead them, without guile, to Matrin. Cliadle had to stop several times to calm herself before continuing; they all gave her the time, aware of the burden they were putting on her.

When Aliamon stopped running through the palace, Qui-Gon figured she had finally run out of steam, perhaps becoming exhausted by her inner turmoil. They were very near the huge public ballroom that Qui-Gon remembered well from the Mummer's Fete masquerade. The ornate throne had been moved back in there after the Mouth of the Dhro's visit -- that was the normal 'storage' place for it, no other room had the proper amount of space available. 

Cliadle emerged from her fugue, shaking. "She's in there, she's not moving, but Poppa, she's really hurting, I can feel her!"

"I know, da'schal, we--" Maul interrupted himself, putting one hand to his earpiece. Whatever he heard must have been bad, for his eyes grew wide and Qui-Gon could see his jaw clench so tightly it almost creaked. "What?" He snarled, obviously making an effort to keep his voice down. "How did that happen? Deny them landing permission! Tell them to go back--" Obion was staring at Maul, who glanced up finally. "Anikin has apparently stolen a ship and is landing at the port."

"He's _what_?" Both Obion's and Qui-Gon's jaws dropped. They glanced at each other but were completely at a loss.

"Fine, fine, that's all right, they didn't give you any choice. But don't you dare let him off that shuttle. I'll be there to personally deal with young Master Anikin as soon as I can." He glanced up at Obion and Qui-Gon. "We're just outside the Grand Ballroom, north door, and I need backup. Team yellow, team green, call off your search and join us here; yellow, take the south door."

There was another headache growing behind Qui-Gon's eyes. "What in the world is that child doing?" he murmured as he rubbed his head.

"I can't believe he got away from... Oh shit! Where's Adi?"

At Maul's words, Qui-Gon and Obion both turned. The Empress had been just behind them a moment ago, now she was gone, and the guards escorting her crumpled even as they turned to see them. Qui-Gon's incipient headache exploded into full-scale warfare, and it was all he could do to contain a cry. He barely noticed that Obion, Cliadle and even the guardsmen left standing with them did the same, suddenly clutching their heads. Maul was wincing and looking about in confusion.

"It's Matrin," Qui-Gon gasped. "Find Aliamon and Adi!" 

Obion stumbled as he turned towards the Grand Ballroom, and he grabbed the doorframe to steady himself. Qui-Gon tried to support him, tried to breathe deeply to dispel the attack, but it was too powerful for him to do much more than think. He could see the Empress now, she was in the ballroom, reaching out to Aliamon, who was backing away from her, shaking her head. They were speaking, but the pain was such that he couldn't make out the words. He wanted to call to them, wanted to run in there and grab Adi and get her out, get both of them out -- the Force was battering at him, trying to get through the pain to get him to act, do something, _anything_...

Maul stumbled slightly then managed to stand straight. He drew his 'saber and stalked into the room, the way his jaw was working and the sweat standing out on his forehead giving proof to his internal struggle to overcome the compulsion. Obion moaned and Qui-Gon tried again to shove the psychic attack away, but all he managed to do was touch Obion.

Before Maul got very far into the room, the sound of running footsteps made Qui-Gon turn: it was Anikin, at a dead run, trailed by Maisen and Terrell Benk. "Mam!" he screamed as he crossed the threshold into the room. 

Maul turned and grabbed him as he tried to pass. Their momentum was such that they crashed to the floor, Maul hitting harder as he turned to cushion Anikin's fall. As Qui-Gon watched, Aliamon turned her haunted eyes to them before whirling and dashing out the far door. The Empress tried to follow, but with a small cry, she collapsed.

Then the world went up in flames.

* * *

Later, much later, they would determine that the bomb had been embedded in the throne itself. It was, thankfully, a shaped charge that mostly blasted up and out towards the windows, so the overall damage was actually minimal; the ballroom ceiling and the floor above it were the hardest hit. The Empress' collapse actually helped preserve her life -- had she been standing when it went off, they would still have been picking up pieces of her years later.

As it was, she was buried under half a ton of rubble, but there was no shortage of volunteers to help dig her out; the explosion had drawn nearly everyone in the palace to the ballroom. all of them offering to help dig for the Empress. Qui-Gon would forever equate the combined smell of explosives and tears with that awful morning. The sunshine pouring in through the shattered windows seemed sacrilegious to him.

Dr. Pfelling was there, having already treated Anikin, Maul and Obion for superficial wounds, when she was found, trapped by a support beam. She was alive... barely. Maul was utterly silent, and had been since the explosion. He dug frantically, with his bare hands if he had no other way, and ignored everything said to him in his single-minded purpose. He was the one who managed to toss away a large piece of wall and expose the Empress. He knelt at her head and gently felt around her neck for damage, for blood, for a pulse.

She looked fine. She was unconscious, covered with dust, dirt and ash and there was a gash in her forehead that looked nasty but not life-threatening. From her bust down, however, they could see nothing; she was buried beneath wreckage and a large metal strut. Then she began to cough, and bloody foam appeared on her lips.

Pfelling gently shouldered Maul aside to examine and give her injections. Maul moved enough so that the doctor had access to the Empress, but never stopped touching her. Anikin, Cliadle and Maisen clung to each other very near the worst of it, near where their mother was lying. The woman they called 'Nanny Brom' was with them, trying to soothe them but she was weeping as well. They could see their mother, but didn't know the extent of her injuries. Qui-Gon was much closer, and he had to swallow against the pain that rose in his throat.

Three burly guardsmen, under Obion's direction, began to use a lever to shift the metal beam pinning her down, but as it moved, she came to and cried out, weakly. 

"Stop," Pfelling said sharply. "Someone, give me a light, please? Adi, can you hear me?"

"Yes..." The Empress' voice was weak and she coughed more foam.

"What do you feel, child?" Pfelling asked her, peering along her mostly buried body.

"Nothing," she whispered.

"Nothing at all?"

"My... my head hurts... Maul?"

"I'm here, da'mrow." Qui-Gon almost couldn't hear Maul's voice, it was so soft.

"Tell... Obi..." She paused and coughed weakly again. Dr. Pfelling looked up at Maul and shook his head slowly. "Get... get the blade..."

"No... He doesn't need that. He's not going to need that. We're going to get you out, now. It'll be fine."

"No..." Her eyes were cloudy as she looked up at Maul. "No, too late..."

"Please don't do this. Don't go where I can't protect you, da'mrow, please... please don't..." Maul's voice was steady but there was a note of hysteria beneath it. 

Next to Qui-Gon, Obion breathed in sharply at his mother's words and began to tremble. He turned to his brother and sisters, and when he spoke, his voice was strange. "Anikin, would you please fetch the dagger for me?"

"NO!" Anikin broke from his sisters' and nanny's arms and made to dash to his mother's side.

Obion caught him as Maul had done earlier and held him tightly; they were both weeping. "I'm sorry, Ani, I'm so sorry... I didn't protect her, I failed you..."

Maisen tugged on Qui-Gon's stola. "Tell Obi I've gone for the blade, Master Qui-Gon? I'll be right back." She seemed remarkably composed, even while there were tears streaming down her face. To Qui-Gon's shock, he realized she was dressed as a Jedi initiate.

Unable to talk or even think coherently, Qui-Gon nodded and watched Maisen race out of the room, carefully avoiding the work crews and others, who had come to help but were now realizing help was too late. Many of them were openly weeping as well. Qui-Gon turned back and saw Cliadle had once again gone to Anikin and Obion. He walked to the three of them, uncertain whether his presence would be a welcome thing in their grief. Dr. Pfelling was talking quietly to Maul, but Qui-Gon didn't have to hear it, he knew. She was dying. Her aura was fading with each rasping breath she took.

He touched Obion's shoulder and was relieved when all three of them turned to him, drawing him into their circle, as private as they could be among the destruction and the crowd of helpers. "You all need to see your mother," Qui-Gon murmured, touching each of them gently. "You... you need to..."

Obion took a gasping breath, closed his eyes and whispered, "We need to say goodbye."

"Mam..." Anikin was mostly incoherent now. He released Obion in favor of Qui-Gon. "Master Qui-Gon, help Mam, please help Mam..."

Going down on one knee, Qui-Gon pulled the boy into his arms, patting his back soothingly. "Ani, you have to be brave, now," he said, thinking even as he said it that it was ridiculous. "Your mother..."

"She's dying," Cliadle said, her voice shrill and panicked. "She's dying and it's all Ali's fault! It's all her fault!"

"No," Obion said firmly, grabbing Cliadle's arms in a bruising grip and giving her a shake. He must have noticed how others close to them reacted to that, and modulated his voice. "Don't think like that, Cli, that's how he wants you to think. Put it out of your mind now. Only Mam counts now."

Cliadle dissolved into sobs again and hugged Obion hard. Then they turned and walked to the small knot of people hovering around the area where the Empress lay pinned. Maul was still sitting at her head, and in fact had gently pulled it into his lap. Her eyes were open but she was fading fast.

"I've given her enough painkillers where she'll feel nothing," Dr. Pfelling said to Obion. "You..." He swallowed hard. "You need to get..."

"Maisen is getting it," Obion said in a dead voice. He took Pfelling's place at his mother's side, Ani and Cliadle next to him. "Mam?"

"Obi? Is... is Cli with you?"

Cliadle had to clear her throat before she could speak. "I'm here, Mam. Ani is too."

"Ani, my love. All my loves. Where's Mai? Is Ali there? I can't see..."

"Mai will be here in a moment, Mam, and Ali is here too." Obion's voice was steady as he lied to his mother, but tears began flowing, unchecked, down his face again. "Maul is here, and Qui-Gon."

"My whole family," she whispered. "All together. I love all of you, so much... Obi, you need..."

"Mai is fetching it, Mam." At Obion's words, Ani began to cry harder. Maul reached out to touch the boy and Anikin clung to his hand.

"Oh... Ani... I'm so sorry..." she murmured, then coughed, producing more bloody foam.

Maisen returned, gasping from her run, clutching something close to her chest. "Obi..."

"Mai. Thank you, Youngest Sister." It was the same nondescript dagger sheath Qui-Gon had noticed Obion wearing during official events. It held a simple knife, honed very keen by the looks of it, with a plain leather grip. He pulled it out and swallowed hard -- he was still trembling visibly. "Mam?" 

"It is time," she whispered faintly. "Kiss me, my family..." Kisses were mingled with tears, but each one of them, including Qui-Gon, kissed her cheek and murmured words of love and goodbyes. Maul stayed in his position, stroking the Empress' hair back from her forehead gently, and would not look up. The cut on her forehead had already closed. "Now, Obion..."

Carefully, gently, Obion reached out with the dagger and put a very small cut on her left shoulder, where her dress had been ripped away; it bled sluggishly. His voice, when he spoke, was hoarse but steady. "I demand my birthright from you, my superior, by claiming your life, as is my due. No more will there be an Empress of the Sith, for I take your name from you with this stroke and claim my rightful place."

"By this stroke, you take your birthright and my life," Adilene of the Clan Kenobi breathed. "Hail, Obi-Wan, Emperor of the Sith." Her unfocused eyes were closing for the last time, but a small smile lingered about her mouth. "Rule well, my son; know I love thee and will be with thee forever." With those words, ending in a soft, barely there sigh, she was gone.

So passed Adilene of the Clan Kenobi, Empress of the Sith, head of the royal House of Wan. Maul carefully put her head down and tenderly smoothed her hair back again before bending and kissing her cold lips one last time. His shoulders shook with emotion, but when he finally looked up, his eyes were dry and dead, and Qui-Gon shivered.

Dr. Pfelling noted that as well, when he looked up from the Empress' body. But he only said -- loud enough for most to hear -- "Hail, Obi-Wan, Emperor of the Sith."

Those who heard repeated it as they wept.

* * *

Dr. Pfelling finally had to sedate Anikin before the boy went into complete hysterics. Once he was out, Obion carried him tenderly to his mother's rooms and stretched him out on the bed. Cliadle, also recovering from the many shocks of the day, joined him. They left the rubble of the Grand Ballroom to others, and Dr. Pfelling took control of the Empress' body. There was still no sign of Matrin or Aliamon, though that was perhaps logical, since the entire palace was in a state of panicked shock.

When Qui-Gon saw that Obion was getting Anikin and Cliadle settled, he returned to the sitting room. Maul appeared to be gearing up to berating poor Terrell Benk when Maisen interrupted. "Maulie, it wasn't Terrell's fault," she said, tugging on Maul's leather surcoat. "Ani woke up really early this morning with a terrible nightmare. He came in my room and told me we had to leave to see Mam, right away. I told him no, that he wasn't supposed to go, but he went anyway."

"I'm not sure how me managed to elude me, Sir," Terrell said. His eyes were anguished. "But her Grace alerted me and we managed to get on the shuttle before he took off. All the way here, I tried to get him to turn back, but I didn't want to hit him, didn't want to hurt him, and I think that's the only way I could have stopped him." He swallowed hard then straightened, visibly forcing himself to look Maul in the eyes. "I take full responsibility for what happened, sir; the children were under my protection at that time and I failed you."

Maul slumped and turned away. "I knew I'd regret teaching that child how to fly," he muttered under his breath. "It's not your fault, Benk. Damn."

Qui-Gon could feel the waves of despair and exhaustion coming from Maul, and decided to step in. "Maisen, thank you for clearing that up for us. You did well, my dear." Maisen allowed herself to be pulled into a hug and she clung fiercely.

"Ani's dream was about Mam, wasn't it, Master Qui-Gon?"

"Yes, probably so," Qui-Gon allowed. 

Obion came back into the room and sagged onto the sofa, looking as worn out as all of them. Maisen released Qui-Gon and scrambled onto the sofa to hug her brother. "Obi?"

"Hello, Mai," Obion -- Obi-Wan, Qui-Gon would have to remember, he was no longer Obion, he was Emperor Obi-Wan. At that thought, Qui-Gon found himself breathing deeply to release more emotion.

"I'm sorry about Ani, Obi," Maisen said. "Master Qui-Gon said the nightmare that woke him up this morning was probably about Mam."

"Most of this day has been a nightmare, Mai, so yes, I'm sure he's right." Obi-Wan wrapped his arms around Maisen and she rested her head on his shoulder. 

"Where's Ali?"

Obi-Wan swallowed. "That's a long story, Mai. All you need to know at the moment is that Ali is very sick, and so is Sir Jay. We'll explain it all later, but for now, don't trust either of them, they're not being themselves."

"They're both sick in their heads?" Mai asked, her little-girl eyes far more shrewd than Qui-Gon would have given her credit for.

"Yes, after a fashion. If either of them contact you, make sure you tell us right away."

"I will." She snuggled down next to her brother and closed her eyes after a yawn. "I promise."

"Mai?" Maisen dragged her eyelids up as Qui-Gon spoke. "I think you should lie down with your brother and sister for a while. It's been a very rough morning."

"All right," she said, allowing herself to be picked up, which, in and of itself, said a lot about her exhaustion level. 

Qui-Gon carried her into the Empress' bedroom and put her on the bed next to Anikin, so that the boy was flanked by his sisters. They were asleep, but their sleep was not a restful one; Qui-Gon took a moment to use the Force to soothe them, to deepen their sleep. With a sigh, Anikin relaxed further.

Returning to the sitting room, Qui-Gon made sure to keep the bedroom door ajar, then took a seat next to Obi-Wan, taking the new emperor's hand. "I'm sorry," he murmured. "You were right, I had no idea, and I apologize all over again for my harsh words on the rite. I was wrong."

Obi-Wan shook his head and closed his eyes, but he didn't remove his hand from Qui-Gon's. "I should have talked to you about it. I should have told you about the time when the Kenobi clan took the throne and scepter from the Walachav clan, about Dai-Wan and the dagger she used to kill Mla-Wan." He sighed. "Should, could, would. All too late now."

"No, it's not too late," Qui-Gon murmured, pulling Obi-Wan to him and wrapping him in a hug. "We have years and years of being together. You can tell me all about it later, right after we kill Matrin and save your sister."

Any retort Obi-Wan would have made was short-circuited by Galer entering the room, looking as shell-shocked as the rest of them, but trying hard to maintain normality. "High... I mean, Exalted Majesty? There's a crowd of people to see you, sir, about the... the Empress' death."

Obi-Wan groaned. "Flaming ancestors. I don't want to deal with this now, there's too much else going on..."

"You have to deal with it now," Maul said flatly. "You are next on his agenda. We need to get you established as quickly as possible."

"What do you mean?" Obi-Wan asked, frowning at Maul.

"He's got Aliamon. He's... he's gotten rid of the head of the Empire, he tried to control you and failed, so his next logical step is to kill you so Ali can take the scepter. He'll probably have her do it."

Intellectually, Qui-Gon knew that Maul's words were true. Intellectually, he understood the need for Obion -- for Obi-Wan's -- immediate acknowledgment of the passing of the throne and scepter. Emotionally, however, it was a completely different story. 

He gave Obi-Wan's shoulder a squeeze. "I'll help. You need to speak to them about the mourning period, the funeral arrangements, and about Matrin's treason. See if we can get some of them in here, Toor and Blelling, at least, and we need a report on Skora, to find out if she made it down to Selonia."

Obi-Wan sighed and rubbed his head. "Yes, you're right, of course." Briefly, he rested his head on Qui-Gon's shoulder, then straightened. "Galer, have Lords Toor, Blelling and Sallish come in, please."

The rest of the day passed in a blur of work, which was probably better than sitting around waiting for Matrin's attack. Maul kept them all confined to Adi's quarters, which was fine for the Empress' children; still in shock, they didn't want to leave the comfort of the rest of their family. Various court functionaries scurried in and out, and the search teams continued looking for Matrin and Aliamon, to no avail. Maul snarled into his radio link frequently, and personally inspected everyone that came into the suite. 

The situation was made light-years more difficult by the fact that Jaydon Matrin was the Seneschal to the Empire: he coordinated everything, he knew where everything was, and his closest assistants were almost fanatically loyal to him. They didn't believe he could be the traitor to the Empire that Maul and Obi-Wan said he was, even if he were sick. They didn't want to work for another, only him. Qui-Gon appointed himself to work on that problem, and enlisted Bellen to help.

The only time Maul turned into a human being, as opposed to a functional automaton, was when Cliadle spoke to him. She was the one that nagged him into eating, into resting, into continuing to live. If Cliadle hadn't been there, if she had been killed in Matrin's first attack, Qui-Gon feared that Maul would have simply gone after Matrin until both were dead, for he would have had no reason to live further. Qui-Gon mentioned his theory quietly to Obi-Wan at one point, and Obi-Wan nodded soberly in agreement.

Dr. Pfelling arranged all the funeral rites, including getting the Empress' body prepared for viewing. There was to be a three-month official mourning period and the body would lie in state for five days so that the population of Corellia could come to pay their collective respects. The Grand Ballroom was hastily repaired sufficiently to become a mourning parlor. The draperies hung for the occasion, in the colors of the Clan Kenobi and in mourning black, hid much of the devastation.

Obi-Wan had to make many decisions, and frequently glanced at Qui-Gon for help and advice. He decided to keep his old rooms, but further decided they would all stay in his mother's rooms until such time as Matrin was found or killed -- he was well aware that made them into one large target, but on the other hand, it was easier to defend one suite of rooms, and no one had any wish to leave the Empress' quarters, where he spirit seemed to linger. The formal announcement of his court could wait until after the internment, and Lords Toor and Blelling concurred with this. However, the depth of Matrin's treason had to be discussed with the cabinet, even if Obi-Wan still withheld the information about him being a clone of Exar Kun. There was still no need to foment panic on that type of scale, it would only complicate things.

They caught catnaps on the sofa or on the Empress' bed as needed; in other words, just before they collapsed. Their grief was exhausting and was made worse by the knowledge that the Empress' killer was still out there, still aiming for them. The younger children, finally let into the secret of what they were fighting, had no wish to wander the palace looking for a place to sleep. After hearing and absorbing the story of who Jaydon Matrin really was, Anikin became very grim-faced. The young man who replaced the loving child was far too old for his years, and he no longer reached out to touch everyone in the room.

Not willing to trust anyone else with the mission, Skora had reported that she had landed on Selonia, but after that, they lost contact with her. There was still no movement of any kind in the blockade, though, and that gave them courage.

The day had been so busy with everyone coming and going that Qui-Gon felt sure Matrin wouldn't make a move yet, unless he planned on blowing up the entire palace. That thought gave him pause, and even though the Force was still quiescent, he spoke to Maul about setting up explosive-detection sweeps, just in case. Between everything going on, the palace was busier than a hive, and that made them feel safer... for the moment.

By late afternoon, they were exhausted, and well aware that the coming night would be the ideal time for Matrin to strike. No one had seen Aliamon all day, though most of the palace was looking for her -- Cliadle's comment about her in the Grand Ballroom had gone through the palace like wildfire and Qui-Gon wasn't sure if that was helping or hindering them. Even though everyone in the palace and perhaps half the city was looking for both Matrin and Aliamon, they remained at large, lost, absorbed into the woodwork. Despite Plo's conviction that their enemy, clone of Kun or not, was not as powerful as either Kun or Nadd, he was quite powerful enough to hide his presence effectively.

The three of them, Maul, Qui-Gon and new Emporer Obi-Wan, all agreed on one thing; they would not use Cliadle to try and find Aliamon again. She put up a brave front, but they could see the nerves that jangled beneath her surface calm.

Hoping to wake himself up, Qui-Gon managed to get away from his duties long enough for a shower and a change of clothing. As he was standing under the spray, letting it pound into his too-tense muscles, the door to the stall suddenly opened and Obi-Wan stepped in. "Didn't I say before that you have good ideas?" he asked, the weariness in his voice beating out all attempts at humor.

Qui-Gon simply gathered his lover into his arms, holding tightly. They stood like that under the spray together until Obi-Wan took a deep breath and released it as a sob. That one small noise was it, it was all he would allow himself for now, and a moment later he sighed and pulled away enough to look up at Qui-Gon. The water pouring down on them hid a multitude of weaknesses, and washed away whatever tears were on Obi-Wan's face. After a nod, an acknowledgment of whatever he looked for, he closed his eyes. After a few more moments, Qui-Gon finally leaned down and kissed Obi-Wan very gently.

With a harsh moan, Obi-Wan put his hand to Qui-Gon's neck and pulled him down further, opening his mouth to Qui-Gon's kiss, deepening it ruthlessly. Qui-Gon let him, recognizing the hunger, knowing it would help Obi-Wan to take what he needed, what Qui-Gon was willing to give him. Obi-Wan moved almost in desperation, rubbing himself against Qui-Gon, biting and sucking on Qui-Gon's lips, pulling their bodies so close that not even water could come between them. 

Obi-Wan was hard, as was Qui-Gon, but it was an arousal born of desperation as much as desire. No matter how he rubbed himself against his lover, Obi-Wan couldn't find that one spark to send him over into ecstasy, and his movements became increasingly erratic.

"Shhh, shhh," Qui-Gon said, rubbing and squeezing Obi-Wan's buttocks, slowing his movements.

"Can't..." Obi-Wan moaned, trembling.

"Like this, then." Sliding down Obi-Wan's body, Qui-Gon went to his knees and swallowed Obi-Wan whole.

Obi-Wan shoved himself back into the corner of the shower stall and leaned against the wall, trembling and gasping as he watched Qui-Gon's mouth on his erection. "Oh, gods... yes..." His head thumped against the wall and he grunted as Qui-Gon hollowed out his cheeks, sucking strongly, not trying to prolong the experience, for that was not what was needed; relief was. "Touch... touch yourself, Qui... want to see you come, oh gods... yes..."

Incapable of refusing anything Obi-Wan told him to do, Qui-Gon turned his body enough so that he could stroke his own erection, pumping it with the same single-minded purpose he used on Obi-Wan. Despite the circumstances -- or perhaps because of them -- it didn't take long for Obi-Wan to climax, flooding Qui-Gon's mouth with his bitter seed. As if that were the catalyst, Qui-Gon came as well, and his own semen was washed down the drain with the tears they shed.

Obi-Wan slid down the wall to his knees, embracing Qui-Gon again. They clung to each other like drowning men to a piece of flotsam, unwilling to face any more pain, knowing that it awaited them just outside the glass doors to their tiny, humid haven.

* * *

Maul had sent for two of the Jedi tutors earlier in the day, with the idea that the Jedi might be able to protect where regular guardsmen could not. They landed well before nightfall, and once briefed in the situation, they became all business, more than willing to wait with the younger heirs while Maul and Qui-Gon went hunting. The one bump in the road was the new Emperor Obi-Wan, who, like his mother, would not stay under guard but insisted upon accompanying them.

"May I remind you, Exalted Majesty," Maul said through gritted teeth, "that your mother died because she would not take my advice to stay safe and insisted on accompanying us?"

"I am all too well aware of that, Maul," Obi-Wan said calmly. "As I know you are. But I must remind the two of you, this man has not only killed a member of my family, he has tried -- and succeeded! -- to subvert us, he has taken us for fools, and he has made us afraid to sleep in our beds. He is _my_ enemy, his head is forfeit to _me_ , and I will not allow you to take him on alone, if for no other reason than to make sure you are there for Cliadle should her rank become elevated this evening!"

Qui-Gon was impressed by the volume Obi-Wan managed to achieve by the end of his tirade, and chuckled wearily. "Give in, Maul. There are some battles not worth fighting."

Maul took a deep breath and closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them, they were shadowed with pain. "Obi..."

"This is something I need to do, Maul. Trust me on it, please?"

They stood in silence for a long moment before Maul grudgingly gave in. "Stay with us."

"I will. I swear."

They were dressed in dark clothing and each one carried a blaster along with his 'saber. It was full dark, during a period of mourning; the search teams had been called off, and the palace staff had been told to stay in quarters. The only ones moving in the palace should be the three of them, Matrin and Aliamon. As a starting point, they went to the Grand Ballroom, which had been partially cleaned up, and each of them centered and relaxed, as best as possible, before turning to the Force for guidance.

They still could not locate Aliamon's aura, and assumed that Matrin was continuing to hide her. There was another possibility no one wanted to mention; they had to comfort themselves with the thought that Matrin wanted Aliamon on the throne, what was left of it, and wouldn't hurt her.

Grounded -- as best they could be -- and centered, they asked the Force to direct their steps. There were secrets to the palace that evidently even Obi-Wan didn't know about, for some of the doors which opened to Maul he looked at in deep surprise. A building as old as the palace, at least a millennia old, perhaps more, was bound to have secret doors, tunnels and chambers, and a man like the Seneschal was bound to know them all, better even than those who putatively owned the place.

The Force led them on a winding, partially hidden course to the parts of the palace reserved for various staff, such as housekeeping, kitchens, and janitorial, the places Matrin would have known best. Just off the main kitchen was a huge garden considered a part of the palace; regimented rows of vegetables grew there and a large greenhouse sat next to it. It was near the port which served the palace, and as they passed into the garden, Maul suddenly stopped and held up his hand.

He still retained the earpiece and even though he had specifically called all searches off, he kept in touch with the guards and the armed forces: he was hoping to hear from General Skora. As he listened, Qui-Gon could feel his anxiety rise.

Finally, he turned to them. "Aliamon was just seen, in Adi's rooms," he said, his voice carrying his frustration, though he spoke softly. "She escaped before anyone could catch her. But that's not the worst: that damned Mouth of the Dhro person was just spotted in-system and is heading right for us, asking for parley again."

Stunned, Qui-Gon's jaw dropped. "Just _now_?" Obi-Wan demanded in a hiss. "I knew it, I knew they were linked. If Matrin is Kun's clone, then that fucking Dhro is Nadd's."

"We don't know that," Maul replied, his tone preoccupied. "We won't know it either, until after we get Matrin." He glanced back at Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan, his brow furrowed. "Why would Aliamon have gone to Adi's rooms?"

Qui-Gon was at a loss, and spread his hands helplessly. "I don't know why any of this is happening, Maul. The whole situation stinks worse than the Malastarian fish market in summer."

The blinding headache caught him and the others off-guard. They knew, by this time, what it meant: Matrin was trying to hide something from them, trying to cut them off from the Force. Obi-Wan staggered and reached out to Qui-Gon for support, but since Qui-Gon was suffering along with him, it didn't do much.

_Breathe deeply. Breathe. Come on, breathe, dammit!_ Qui-Gon kept up an internal dialogue trying to win himself free of the awful attack, forcing his body to respond to his conscious volition. He beat back the pain as best he could, trying to ignore the rest of it in his almost panicked need to guard himself and Obi-Wan. He managed to get it to the point where he could hear the Force, at least partially, and was almost immediately deafened by its warning.

Qui-Gon turned and grabbed Obi-Wan around the waist and bore them both to the ground just as a blaster bolt cut through the air where Obi-Wan had been standing. All the air was driven from his body with an _oof_ and he couldn't move for a moment, stunned. Obi-Wan recovered quickly, rising to a crouch, his 'saber already in his hand and lit though his face was still a grimace of pain.

Fighting off both the headache and the pain in his solar plexus, Qui-Gon managed to get to his knees, drawing his own 'saber as he looked around. Maul was nowhere in sight. "Back to back," he gasped to Obi-Wan, and was gratified when Obi-Wan turned, pressing against him.

The garden was dark; the swirling colors of the particle shield making it even darker. The bulk of the palace, behind them, was merely a larger and darker black than the garden. "Where is he?" Obi-Wan muttered, and Qui-Gon could feel him struggle to dispel the psychic attack.

"We have to be close," Qui-Gon replied, equally sotto voce. "He's got to be here somewhere. Where's Maul?"

"I... I don't know..."

"I suggest you put your weapons down, gentlemen." The voice was Matrin's, though it seemed harsher. It was coming from the kitchen entrance and they turned. A light over the kitchen doorway flared to brilliance and they saw Matrin, casually leaning against the doorjamb, Aliamon propped against him. He held an unlit 'saber to her head with one hand; the other held a blaster, pointed at them. Aliamon didn't appear to be conscious, though she stood on her own. She had the dagger Obi-Wan had used on his mother clutched in one hand. "I think I hold all the cards here."

"Matrin, you fucking shit, let her go." Obi-Wan's voice trembled, but only slightly.

"I don't think so. I have plans for little Ali, here, you know." He caressed her body lewdly with the blaster, though she didn't react. "I would have rather had you, _exalted majesty_ , and if it hadn't been for that idiot Palpatine, I would have." He chuckled and it sent a shiver down Qui-Gon's spine. "He wasn't supposed to actually fall in love with you, you know. He was useless as my apprentice, but there you go. You get what you pay for." 

"Matrin, let my sister go. You want me, fine. One on one."

Qui-Gon's head whipped around. "No, Obi! You're not ready for that," he hissed.

"Listen to your lapdog, _exalted majesty,_ " Matrin said. "You don't really want to fight me. You want to join me, as my apprentice."

The attack against Obi-Wan must have increased, for Qui-Gon could feel more than hear him moan, and he slumped. "Stop it! Let him go, Matrin," Qui-Gon snarled. 

"Or you'll what? Stupid little Jedi, not even knowing what you have. _I_ know. Power. I know the taste of it, the feel of it... it's wonderful." He narrowed his eyes. "I know you want it too, Obion. You want far more than the little bit your worthless mother controlled. I can give it to you -- I can, and I will. Join me."

Obi-Wan was breathing hard and Qui-Gon wished with all his heart that he could help, somehow. It took a while (where was Maul?) but finally Obi-Wan straightened. "No." His voice was steady and strong and Qui-Gon's pride threatened to overwhelm him. "You do not know what I want. _I_ know what I want, and I want you dead, you self-serving, lying rancor bastard."

For a split second, anger swamped the garden as Matrin reacted to Obi-Wan's words; it made both of them groan in pain. Then Matrin relaxed again and laughed. "Fine, whatever. Your slut of a mother has other children... if little Ali here doesn't pan out, I can always get Anikin. Or Cliadle, perhaps... though a half-breed does nothing for me personally."

_Get ready._ It was Maul's voice and Qui-Gon heard it only in his head. Suddenly, the pressure eased and he struggled to his feet; behind him, he heard Obi-Wan do the same. Get ready? Ready for what? Where was Maul? Why wasn't he incapacitated? Was it him helping to dispel the attack?

Stalling for time, still trying to figure out what was going on with Maul, Qui-Gon said the first thing that popped into his head. "You have nowhere to go, Matrin. No one trusts you any longer. Let Ali go."

"Why would I do that? I'm going to have her kill Obion -- oh, excuse me, _Obi-Wan_ \-- and take the throne and scepter. Then I can raise Anikin to be the kind of Sith legends are made of." He smiled, and it was the cold smile of a reptile. "We're going to be glorious."

"Over my dead body," Obi-Wan snarled, bringing his blaster up and taking shaky aim.

"Precisely, _exalted majesty_ , precisely. And if you pull that trigger, I guarantee you'll kill your sister."

"Better she were dead than under your control!"

Matrin made a sound Qui-Gon had never before heard a human make -- animalistic and filled with rage, it was a sound he hoped to never hear again. Not letting go of Aliamon, Matrin pulled his 'saber from her head and lit it, pointing it towards them. "Fine, we do this the hard way."

Even as he moved, the lights in the kitchen behind him came on, blindingly bright, accompanied by a metallic crash. He twisted quickly, trying to keep his 'saber pointed outside while bringing his blaster up and pointed inside, but in doing so, he let go of Aliamon and she crumpled to the floor at his feet.

A blaster bolt from somewhere behind Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan flashed by with deadly accuracy to the hand with the blaster, causing Matrin to drop it with a cry. "Get Ali!" Maul roared as he flew past them, aiming straight and true for his enemy, who was frothing in rage as they met.

Aware his position was less than tenable, Matrin left the doorway and Aliamon in order to meet the new challenge. Their blades -- one the serene blue of the sea and the other red as blood, red as betrayal -- clashed, and in the mingling of light, Qui-Gon saw Matrin snarl, could feel him fill with and broadcast nearly overpowering rage. "You! You perverted freak, you will not stand between me and my prey!"

Obi-Wan went to one knee again, crying out with the pain Matrin broadcast. Almost incapacitated himself, Qui-Gon dragged Obi-Wan back to his feet and stumbled the short distance to the kitchen door and Aliamon. There was another figure in the room, and Qui-Gon nearly despaired; if Matrin had another accomplice, they were in no shape to take him on.

To his overwhelming relief, it was Terrell Benk who was crouched at Aliamon's side. "Master... Master Jinn," he gasped, trying to hold his head and pick up Aliamon at the same time. "What's happening? What... how..."

"It's Matrin," Qui-Gon choked out. "The pain you feel is a psychic attack... we need to get Aliamon to safety..."

"Can't... move..." Obi-Wan went back to his knees as another black wave swamped them with agony. How was Maul withstanding it? No one, not even Nomi Sunrider, had been immune to Kun and Nadd's Force acuity, yet there was Maul, in the garden, fighting like an avenging angel, moving faster than Qui-Gon could see. Barely able to move at all, Qui-Gon keyed off his 'saber but kept it in his hands. He went to one knee and wrapped his arms around the three younger people, hoping, praying Maul would defeat Matrin... because if he didn't, they were all dead.

Maul lit the other half of his lightstaff and stepped up the pace, something Qui-Gon didn't think possible. Matrin's face was a rictus of fury as he countered every move Maul made, still trying to gain control of everyone in the area. A rattle behind him made Qui-Gon turn to see some of the larger pieces of kitchen equipment begin to move, and he pulled all four of them aside in time to see a large cask go flying out the door towards Maul.

Meeting that challenge easily, Maul began levitating things as well, smaller but more deadly things that Matrin was having a tough time deflecting. Slowly, very slowly, the pain in Qui-Gon's head lessened as Matrin turned more and more of his attention to the fight with Maul. They were all over the garden in a fight the likes of which Qui-Gon had never seen or even dreamed of before. The combatants were moving so fast now that all he saw were three streaks of lightsabers in a dark area under the colored swirl of the shield. 

Footsteps behind him made him whirl, igniting his 'saber. Captain Sarin ran into the room, goggling at them and the strange battle outside the room. "Master Jinn?"

"Stay down, man," Obi-Wan rasped, struggling to his knees. "Maul needs no distractions."

"That's Maul?" Sarin asked, kneeling by them. Aliamon whimpered and Terrell helped her sit up. "Who..."

"He's fighting Matrin. I've never seen such an incredible sight..." Qui-Gon looked down as Obi-Wan pressed himself back into his embrace. 

"My head doesn't hurt anymore," Terrell said, also peeking around the door. "Did Maul do that?"

"I think so."

Matrin was tiring, Qui-Gon could feel it. He was getting desperate in his search for ways to defeat Maul, who seemed able to fight all night, if necessary. Qui-Gon closed his eyes briefly and concentrated, grounding himself to let the Force back in. It came to him clearly, helping him create a shield around their little party to keep Matrin from using them against Maul.

When the end came, it did so suddenly. Matrin slipped and went to one knee. Maul tried to skewer him, but Matrin was just fast enough to avoid it. He wasn't fast enough to avoid being badly burned, howver, and had to struggle to get to his feet. His movements hampered, Qui-Gon could feel the fear he was now projecting rather than anger, and Maul used it to his advantage. Luring Matrin into an over-extension on a high riposte, he slammed the hilt of his 'saber into Matrin's chin, stunning him long enough to drive his lightstaff right through Matrin's heart.

Eyes wide and protruding, Matrin looked down as Maul pulled his blade out. His mouth opened as if to speak, then he toppled, like a great tree, face down into the mud of the garden.

Maul staggered back several paces then collapsed to one knee. He left his 'saber lit, though, as if not believing that Matrin could really be dead. Qui-Gon, Obi-Wan and Sarin got to their feet and hurried out into the garden, Qui-Gon going to Maul's aid while Sarin and Obi-Wan went to Matrin. Qui-Gon was not surprised when Obi-Wan ignited his 'saber and beheaded Matrin's body.

"He's... dead...?" Maul was gasping, and in the light spilling from the kitchen, Qui-Gon could see numerous burns and bloody marks.

"He's dead," Obi-Wan confirmed, joining Qui-Gon at Maul's side. "His body will be burned. There will be no more clones of Exar Kun, not from him, at least."

Maul keyed off his 'saber and Qui-Gon helped him stagger to his feet. "You need Dr. Pfelling," Qui-Gon murmured, and panting, Maul nodded his agreement.

"How did you do that?" Obi-Wan carefully put his hand on Maul's shoulder. "How were you able to fight him when we couldn't?"

"I don't know..." Maul's breath was coming gentler now, and he was wincing as various aches and pains checked in. Qui-Gon knew once the adrenaline wore off, he'd be in significant pain. "I could still feel him trying to control me, but I managed to shake it off. I commed Benk and then waited for the distraction." He shook his head, carefully, and looked in confusion at Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan "I don't know how I was able to fight him like that, to kill him."

"You were able to kill him because that is what you were made to do," said a new voice, a faintly familiar, cultured voice from the door to the kitchen. They turned to see the Mouth of the Dhro standing there, Xanatos at his side. "You have fulfilled your purpose, Maul. Congratulations."

* * *


	11. Chapter 11

**CHAPTER ELEVEN**

"Shit," Maul muttered, trying to straighten and take a ready stance. His body obviously had other ideas.

Beside them, Sarin whispered, "That's what I was coming to tell you. They just landed."

"How?"

"I don't know! We didn't give them clearance, we didn't open the shield window, but it opened and they landed nonetheless."

"I apologize for the deception in getting us down on the planet," the man said. "After we spoke with your General Skora, we thought it best to come down immediately to help eliminate Kun's clone. She was good enough to give us the access codes to land." He raised an eyebrow in the corpse's direction. "It seems you had the situation well in hand regardless."

"Help?" Obi-Wan demanded. Qui-Gon and Maul spoke at the same time he did: "What are you talking about?" "How did you get to Skora?"

Xanatos glanced up at the Mouth of the Dhro. "I think perhaps I would be the best choice to get things started, Count Dooku."

"Be my guest, my boy." The Mouth of the Dhro gave Xanatos a benevolent smile which he extended to those in the garden. "Xanatos has been of invaluable help to us, Master Jinn. You have every reason to be proud of him."

Shocked, stunned and utterly flummoxed, Qui-Gon could only stand in place with his jaw hanging somewhere around his knees. Xanatos carefully picked his way over the ground to Qui-Gon, embracing him warmly. "I'm sorry I couldn't tell you more the other day, Master." Qui-Gon returned the hug, sensing only truth and happiness in his former padawan. "I would like to present Master Dooku, who has been trained as a Jedi and who has trained several successful padawans to knighthood. I can assure you all, we are genuinely on your side, though it will probably take several days to get the whole story squared away." He glanced at Maul and winced. "I think you need a physician, Maul. Please don't consider us as a threat; we are here to help you." He chuckled. "Honest."

Though his natural paranoia was obviously slowing his movements, Maul finally did stand down. "I want to know what you meant by that statement," he demanded, his voice raw.

"You will know, soon. But now that the garbage is dead, we have time. Let's go somewhere more congenial, though we need to get that body and any other DNA into a secured location."

"I can handle that," Sarin said, as confused as the rest of them. 

It took more than an hour, a period of time that was mystifying, exhausting and eye-opening. To Qui-Gon's surprise, it wasn't all that late when Maul finally defeated Matrin, and many in the palace were still awake, though they were mostly in the dark about what had happened in the kitchen garden. Maul was looked at by a tutting Dr. Pfelling, who also gave Aliamon a once-over before sedating her into sleep. She was not physically damaged, but was in emotional shock. 

Obi-Wan updated his ministers on what had happened, and requested some of them come to the briefing that Dooku, formerly known as the Mouth of the Dhro, promised, but not until late the next day. In that evening, they sat in Adilene's sitting room, drank tea and ate nutrient bars, and tried to figure out what had just happened.

Maul was bandaged and in a dressing gown, sitting on a divan with his daughter next to him. Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan sat together across from them and Dooku sat with Xanatos on the sofa. Maul had been shooting Dooku little puzzled glances all evening, and Qui-Gon wondered if he were still feeling any threat from the two men. Qui-Gon did not. He could still feel the Force quite clearly, he did not feel the least bit compromised, and he felt no trepidation, no worry at all.

It was about to drive him insane.

"Let me begin at the beginning," Dooku said, and Xanatos laughed. 

"If you begin at the beginning, we'll be sitting here until the sun burns out," he said with a smile.

Dooku waved his hand. "Flippant child. Very well then, let me begin a bit further in than the beginning. About two hundred years ago, a Jedi master discovered a cabal with a plot to bring back to life two of the most evil beings our galaxy had ever known -- Freedon Nadd and Exar Kun. When those two were killed, over a millennia ago, we had thought that would be the end of it. It was not."

Sighing, Dooku took a sip of his tea. "While the DNA trace from Nadd, who reputedly fell into a volcano on Onderon, was virtually nonexistent, Kun's body was never recovered after he was spaced, and was, in fact, picked up by his supporters."

"We know that," Obi-Wan said with a frown, "well, at least the first part. Though it took a lot of research to uncover it." He smiled at Cliadle and she half-smiled back, too engrossed in the story.

"Kun and Nadd did not act on their own," Dooku continued. "They had help from various agencies, independents, those for whom love of power is a way of life. When the two were finally killed, their helpers -- many of them -- survived. They went underground, preserving Kun's body as best they could until a method could be found to resurrect him, clone him. Bring him back. It was over five hundred years later that they found a method: a small, very faraway planet called Kamino whose denizens had been refining the art of cloning to nothing short of miraculous."

He sighed. "The Kaminoans had never heard of Kun, never knew of the devastation the man had caused. All they saw was a challenge, one that was to bring them quite a bit of wealth. There were several false starts, but finally, close to fifty years ago, they managed to make one hundred clones of Exar Kun, clones that were a near perfect copy of the most dire enemy our galaxy has ever known."

"One hundred?!" Obi-Wan sounded incredulous. Dooku's voice was hypnotic and it was late, but those words made everyone in the room sit up. "You mean there are ninety-nine more Matrins loose in--"

"They're all dead, Emperor Obi-Wan. The one here -- Matrin? -- was the last one." Dooku's voice was stern, then turned rueful. "He was the best of the bunch, unfortunately. While they were all as potentially powerful as Kun, some were harder to train than others." He sipped his tea again. "This was the plot that Jedi Master uncovered, almost two hundred years ago. He did not know how close they were to success in achieving their aim, but the Force told him he was running out of time.

"Unfortunately, when he told his fellow Jedi about what he had uncovered, they did not believe him. He was forced to leave the Jedi in what, we believe now, was partly influenced by one of the failed Kun clones -- and yes, we've destroyed all of those as well. But there were enough of them around to ensure that the plot would be a success, once it officially got underway."

"You mean there was a clone of Exar Kun in the Temple?" Qui-Gon didn't know what to think: on one hand, it was so obvious, but on the other...

"Three of them, actually, though not all at the same time. Their mission was to destroy records that were kept in the Temple library so that no one would be able to notice the strange resemblance certain Temple workers had to Exar Kun." Xanatos shook his head sadly. "Since the Jedi wouldn't speak to the Sith, and vice versa, they never bothered with the records here, until the clone moved in."

"Once the best clones had matured, they were sent into the Allied Worlds with specific missions," Dooku said, picking up the narrative again. "They worked hard, getting into places of trust and subverting people. They never took direct control, preferring to act behind the scenes. Thus, when we were finally in a position to find them, we found they had built up walls of responsibility, were buried under layers of hierarchy. Unfortunately, quite often the people they had suborned could not be turned back, and had to be killed. Even beloved people..." Dooku rubbed his eyes. "Queen Amidala's father was so far gone, it was better for him that he died. It's been so very difficult at times, and that one, the whole fiasco on Naboo, that was one of the worst."

"But what about Poppa?" Cliadle asked, taking her father's hand.

"No one could withstand a Force-psychic attack from Kun, or from Kun's clone," Dooku said. "It was only through the most extraordinary set of circumstances that the originals were killed at all. We needed a weapon, someone who could withstand such coercion. We went back to Kamino for that." Dooku turned to Maul. "They were so very upset about what they had unwittingly unleashed on the galaxy that they worked feverishly to design someone who would be Force-sensitive, but be able to resist a Force compulsion. Someone who could find the clones, almost like a hunting canine, no matter where they were. Someone..."

"Someone like me," Maul breathed, his face stricken.

"It took them decades and many, many spoiled prototypes before you were finally created, a hybrid of human and so many other types it's quite insane. They weren't even certain that they could recreate the exact sequence to create another like you, and when you disappeared... 

"You were brilliant, Maul." Dooku glanced at Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan, then turned back to Maul. "You found them all, one at a time, and destroyed them. Unfortunately, the last one fought much harder than the others, and you were badly hurt. We found his body, we found your blood, but nothing else. You disappeared, and we didn't know where to find you."

"He was here," Obi-Wan whispered.

"Apparently so. You never checked in. When you never contacted us..."

"I didn't remember," Maul said, rubbing his head. "I didn't remember anything but getting away and the Dhro. I thought I had escaped the Dhro, but I hadn't, had I?"

"Ah." Dooku nodded. "That clears up a number of questions. The fight must have been almost cataclysmic, we knew you were badly hurt but not how badly."

"He was almost dead when he got here," Obi-Wan said. "And he never liked Matrin. So much makes sense now..."

"A part of you recognized your enemy, Maul," Dooku said softly. "You knew what you were supposed to do, at least on some level. Since we didn't have you, and weren't sure we could ever have anyone like you again, we went ahead with phase two and began the mop up of their followers, hoping to find you eventually, dreading facing the last clone if we did not."

"The Dhro's conquering force..." Obi-Wan gaped in astonishment. "You've been..."

"We had no choice," Dooku said. His face fell. "We could not leave anyone alive who might do the same damn thing again, somewhere in the future. It didn't matter if they had been subverted or not, we could not risk _any_ chance of it happening again." He sighed. "There have been many deaths we have regretted deeply, but which we knew were necessary. We're still hoping that the taint on the head of the Council, Master Windu, can be erased. We don't know yet, though it's no where near the level of some we've encountered."

His head whirling, Qui-Gon slumped back in his seat. This was a fundamental paradigm shift: the Dhro was not a megalomaniac, but rather... "Wait a minute," he said. "You said a Jedi Master had uncovered this -- is that the Dhro?"

"Yes, it is," Dooku nodded. "My master, who trained me to be a Jedi. He could not use his real name, because the Jedi would recognize it and he feared that would compromise the mission. Instead, as we encountered Jedi, we tested them to see if they had been compromised, and if not, they joined the mission. We have been a Jedi Temple in absentia for more than fifty years, now."

"You mean all those Jedi who disappeared..."

"Most of them are alive, Master," Xanatos said. "Like me. I went to Telos hoping to get some information, and I certainly found some -- more than I bargained for."

"It wasn't until quite recently that we realized Xanatos was not acting for the cabal but instead, acting on behalf of the other Jedi." Dooku smiled at Xan. "We couldn't tell at first, so kept him in the dark. Once he was let in on the secret, he became one of our best operatives, always feeding the Jedi just enough information to keep them on their toes."

"So now what?" Maul demanded. "I've killed Matrin for you, is that it? Is there anything left?"

"Thankfully, very little," Dooku replied. "Or a lot -- depending on how you see it, on what you want to do. You were our weapon directly against the clones, Maul. You are no longer needed in that capacity. However," he added, with a glance to Cliadle, "you seem to have found a niche here. And we can take you to Kamino to have those extra strands of DNA removed, if you'd like, turn you into a full human."

It was too much, just too much information, and Qui-Gon couldn't take it any longer. He stood. "I think I've just reached my limit. I feel the overwhelming need for some sleep, and I am going to take it now."

"I think that's a great idea, Master," Xani said, also standing. 

That seemed to break the jam and everyone stood, stretching and yawning. Maul and Obi-Wan got into a heated discussion in a corner, and Cliadle looked as though her fingers were itching for a stylus again. There was a tug on Qui-Gon's stola, and when he looked down, he found Maisen and Anikin. He went to one knee. "Xanatos, I'd like to introduce you to my friends Anikin and Maisen. Xanatos is my former padawan and is now a Jedi knight."

"I know, we were listening." Anikin's face was pale and dark circles ringed his eyes. "Is it safe now, Master Qui-Gon? Is it all over? What's going to happen now?"

Qui-Gon pulled Anikin in for a hug, sharing with the boy the Force's happy song. "It will be all right again, soon, Ani. I promise. You'll see."

* * *

Despite Qui-Gon's best intentions, the clock showed him it was far on the other side of midnight before he could get to his bed. He moved without thinking through Obi-Wan's quarters, disrobed and after a hasty wash, all but fell into bed. His exhaustion worked against him, however, and he found himself simply too tired to fall asleep. 

He tossed and turned for a while, missing something but not sure what it was, until at last the door opened and his lover came into the room. That was it.

Obi-Wan slumped on the side of the bed and Qui-Gon pulled himself upright. "Obi?"

"I'm sorry, did I wake you?" Obi-Wan's voice was a dull monotone -- he sounded far more exhausted than Qui-Gon felt.

"No. I was just lying here trying to figure out what I was missing."

"Did you figure it out?" 

"Yes, I think I have." Qui-Gon got up and walked around the bed to kneel before Obi-Wan. Tugging gently, he pulled Obi-Wan's boots off and set them aside, waiting for the expected, usual protest.

"You don't have to do that."

"I know." Qui-Gon stood and worried the shirt Obi-Wan wore over his head, then urged him to stand long enough to get his trous unfastened and off his hips. Once Obi-Wan was naked, Qui-Gon gently pushed his lover to the bed, crawling in after him. Obi-Wan was still preoccupied, not awake but certainly not asleep, and Qui-Gon spooned up to him, sighing as he found his place in the universe at last.

"I can't believe it's over," Obi-Wan said. Qui-Gon might have missed those whisper-soft words if he hadn't been listening.

"I can't either. Though I'm glad it is."

"Is it? Is it really?" Obi-Wan twisted in Qui-Gon's arms until they could be face-to-face. "What if he's lying? This Dooku, we don't know if he's even speaking the truth. We don't know if he's truly on our side. After all the death and destruction the Dhro has brought to the galaxy..."

"If he's lying, if he's an enemy, we'll fight him," Qui-Gon said simply. "We'll fight him together, and we will win."

Obi-Wan looked like he wanted to argue, looked like he wanted to become upset and fearful, but he was simply too tired. "It's not that easy," he whispered.

"Yes, it is." Qui-Gon tucked Obi-Wan's head under his chin and tightened his arms. "After going through so much, we think, this can't be the end, it can't be that simple, that easy. It wasn't, and it's not. It's just that now it's over, we expect the resolution to be as complex as the path we took to get here."

They were silent for a long time, and Qui-Gon finally found himself drifting. Now that he had his lover in his arms, he felt complete, felt that the end truly was at hand. If only Adi had been alive to see it...

"I miss Mam," Obi-Wan mumbled.

"I do too."

Finally, they drifted off. And the next morning they began the messy job of living again, facing it, as always, together.

* * *

**EPILOG -- FIFTEEN YEARS LATER:**

"It gives me great pleasure to introduce Maisen Kenobi, Jedi Knight. Step forth, Knight, and take your rightful place at our side."

As her master, Xanatos T'Crion, cut through her braid, Maisen began to smile, and as she was introduced to the host in the Council chambers, that smile turned into a beam. The assembled guests applauded and cheered, swarming her under with their heartfelt congratulations.

Her brother, Jedi Knight Anikin Kenobi, with his wife, Senator Naberrie of the new Republic and their baby twins in tow, was the first to get to her and the first to hug her. "You see? I told you you'd make it!"

Maisen laughed outright as she hugged her brother, then released him to hug her sister-in-law and her niece and nephew. Then she was claimed by her sister, Aliamon, and her husband, Terrell. She hugged Ali carefully, mindful of her sister's huge belly. "You'd better have this one soon before you pop, Elder Sister," she said, still giddy. Her niece, Ali and Terrell's first daughter Amilene, tugged on Maisen's stola until she got picked up and spun around.

"There she is," said a familiar voice. "Abusing her relatives as usual."

Maisen put her niece down and turned to her eldest brother. "Obi! I was afraid you wouldn't make it!"

"Are you joking?" Emperor Obi-Wan grabbed his youngest sister in a bear hug which she enthusiastically returned. "I wouldn't miss this for the world! Besides, I had fifty credits riding on you."

"Against you, I think," said a dry voice and Maisen was claimed by another member of her family.

"Maul!" The dark-skinned, dark-haired man hugged Maisen and didn't try to hide his emotion. 

"So proud of you, Mai," he whispered in her ear, and she wiped at tears. "So very proud."

"Thank you," she murmured back. "Couldn't have done it without you." 

They pulled apart and were absorbed in the party atmosphere which was loud, loving and happy. "Everyone..." Mace Windu had to shout to be overheard, but he always did have good lung power. "The party is in the next room where there is, in fact, more room!"

Laughing, the revelers -- a good portion of which were Sith and from one family -- allowed themselves to be herded into the huge reception room off the Council chamber. Maisen was on the arm of her eldest brother and she looked around in confusion. "Where's..."

"In the library," Obi-Wan said, and Maul, on the other side of the new knight, groaned. "Since Jocasta's death, she's been busier than ever, making sure the deletions have all been cataloged. She swore that she'd be here for the ceremony, but you know your sister."

Maisen rolled her eyes and accepted the glass of punch Anikin handed her. "She'll be here eventually, she always shows up."

"As long as there's food," Anikin agreed and everyone laughed.

Cliadle did show up shortly thereafter, and looked around cautiously as everyone laughed to see her. There was dust in her hair which was falling out of its coif, and a smudge of dirt on her nose, but she was still happy to wish her sister well.

Obi-Wan partially removed himself from the revelers by perching on a window ledge. He felt such a glow of happiness at his sister's accomplishment: the spoiled brat, the self-centered child of his youth had matured into a composed (well, mostly composed) and responsible young woman, only the second Sith in modern history to become a Jedi knight. A stunning achievement.

"You owe me fifty credits."

Trying to hide the smirk that he knew was showing anyway, Obi-Wan made a show of thinking it over. "I suppose that's true," he allowed, then leaned back into his consort's embrace. "What took you so long?"

"I was stopped by every Jedi not invited to the party and grilled. The first Jedi to turn Sith since Ulic Qel-Droma? I should be cast in wax and placed in a museum." Obi-Wan laughed out loud, and his consort, Qui-Gon Jinn, kissed him. "It's good to see Mace again, isn't it?"

"He's definitely mellowed in his old age," Obi-Wan agreed. "Unlike some Jedi I could mention."

"Then we won't mention them." They both chuckled before Qui-Gon continued. "Time for your speech, I think."

"I hate speeches." Obi-Wan let his smile grow, though, even as he spoke. Using the spoon he had picked up from the buffet table, he gently tapped it against his glass, calling for attention. "I have been reminded that it seems I am due for a speech," he started and was interrupted by catcalls from his family. "Not even the Emperor of the Sith gets any respect around here," he groused with good nature, and the assembly -- most of them Jedi -- laughed. "Twenty years ago, if someone had told me I'd be standing here watching my youngest sibling become a Jedi knight, I would have had that person committed for being insane. Then I watched my consort take my younger brother, Anikin, as his padawan, and watched as Knight Xanatos took my youngest sister as well, and I thought, well, miracles do happen." 

Smiles became wider and watery as Obi-Wan spoke, and his hand was clasped warmly by his consort. "It has been a tumultuous fifteen years, hasn't it? So many changes, so many lost, so many found. The Empire now stands with the Jedi, striding towards a future we have all worked so hard to bring about." He raised his glass in salute to Padme Naberrie, who swallowed hard and nodded back. Obi-Wan had to swallow himself, but finally found his voice amid sniffles and smiles. "We are the Empire, and the Empire bows to no one," he said, finally, finding his strong voice again. "But neither do the Jedi. The Sith and the Jedi are once again one, bowing to no one, leading the way. My sister and my brother merely herald the peace that is, even now, spreading to all the Allied Worlds, our nascent Republic. 

" _We_ are the Empire; my friends, my family. And we bow to no one but each other. To Jedi Knight Maisen Kenobi: long may she live to be a terror to those who perpetrate injustice!"

A rousing cheer -- and surreptitiously wiped eyes -- met his words as Maisen was once again swamped by well-wishers.

"Excellent speech, Exalted Majesty," said his consort. "Short and to the point."

"Thank you, revered Jedi," Obi-Wan replied. "I keep thinking about..."

"I know." 

"If only she could be here, Qui-Gon... think how happy she'd be."

"She is here, Obi," his consort and First Minister replied. "Don't ever doubt it."

They stood to one side of the party for a bit, then Obi-Wan stiffened. "Oh, shit, Yoda just walked in. Hide me!"

"Hide you?!" Qui-Gon laughed down at his lover. "You're the head of the Sith Empire, Obi, I think you can take on one tiny, wizened Jedi master."

"You don't understand," Obi-Wan hissed. "He's been after me to send Amilene here as an initiate! She's my damned Heir, Qui-Gon!"

"You'll manage to get out of it," Qui-Gon assured him with a smile. "At least by the time Aliamon's baby is born. By the way, have you spoken recently to Cliadle? She found out what the word 'Dhro' means, you know."

"She did?" Obi-Wan blinked in surprise.

"Yes, she did. It's Dagobahn. It means 'frog.'"

As Jedi Master Yoda, formerly known as the Dhro, stumped his way through the revelers, he wondered what the Emperor of the Sith could possibly find so amusing that he would be doubled over in mirth. 

He shook his head in fond exasperation. Children these days.

end

**Author's Note:**

> Go on to read Lori's magnificent coda to this story, "Death of the Emperor; Long Live the Empress" [here.](http://archiveofourown.org/works/327859)


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